vomit
my life is no longer a reference for it has become the ink. however, my life is no longer mine when the static frees my lungs. i am no longer in chains, yet the image invites itself and ushers me into bondage. i am the afterlight, i am the afterthought. for every time i speak in tongues, the heart sings and beats at its own drum. and while the heart starves and feeds on everything, the mind freezes, perhaps settles, for a moment to stretch. in the eyes of the righteous, i am everything but. yet, in their absence, i am everything just. is it because i’ve told my soul to go free while you clip the wings of your very own? is it my flesh? my blood? my youth? it’d be better not to wonder any further.
through the holes in my hands, i see a hell that’s close to the sea. i see an origin of suffering. through the windows of this barren place i used to consider home, an echo of the tide transports me east of its shoulder and into the depth of the coldness, the richness of the cold desert. i am caressed by its grandeur of beauty. it must be understood as a calm rendezvous with a history untold. this undisciplined gravity, or current that begs for my hand, exists only to open my chest, maintain a route that runs to and through my soul, leave my river intact, and all without leaving an eyelash on another wound for i am only capable of a grace that erects a barricade without walls.
if you snooze, you learn. if you cruise, you burn. i carry this because i refuse to fall apart in the middle of a sequence without knowing what i could’ve obtained from the other side of it. everything burns eventually and when it does, on this celestial night, i will cut into the tissue of the flame and assume liberty. when victory lands on my lips, i will harp at my veins in the daylight.
i hope that what i manifest remembers its way home. truthfully, the last thing my spirit needs is disappointment. i wear sadness and regret upon my face like a safety blanket, because it is. this blanket forces me not to acknowledge what’s ordained for me to understand. what cannot be understood cannot be managed and the last thing my perspective needs is failure. atrocity has had quite an effect on me so i hope where i rest my head at night offers me thorns i can use for teeth.
