dry

loving used to come so easily
lately not

writing..my words did flow
now they’re cheap and forced

what is happening to my spirit
i don’t want this poison

i feel i must root it out absolutely

so take the words directly from my heart,

imparting this toxicity, slip by slip, drip drip drip

eat the screen, the things, the noise, until all that’s left is space. space and nothingness, that is all i crave now. so i may truly arrive, exhale, twirl round and round until my crown hits the ground and the blood runs onto a canvas. love my bodily fluids, let them sink into the porous spaces, through them, into the floorboards, past the anthills and into the foundation. let my poison burn through even that, and finally into earth where it is home, transforming into a shadow dance to remind me of the stench of my journey, and how it was not always lovely flowers, brilliant sunshine, but too, pressing winds to deal with my sins, reshaping my thoughts, my mind, my creation, my reality, healing, not just packing, really fucking healing so i could be the fresh scent and sunshine that i love, for others. and maybe i too will be their pressing winds, telling them to ungrip their stubborn and grimy fingers from their wicked ways that they do not realize exist. it’s not the intent that has to be wicked, we unknowingly spread despair to those we mean to love and protect, simply because we do not consider each action and the affect it may have on another. truly, this is also a wickedness, should you be pointed out, yet decide to continue not thinking, always continuing your patterns and wondering why your soul turned dry.

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