I never feel like myself when I'm sober
frozen in the present
imprisoned in some simulacra of reality
like a bug in amber
my blood feels stagnant
rotting
I itch
I want to smear myself over reality
melt my ghost over the hot ashes of a supernova
there is Too Much inside a person
for any moment, for any singular body to contain
we are stuffed with pieces
perpetually reshuffling the little bits of universe
that seek harbour in our chemistry
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I think about what will be left of me
when I die
the shape of my ghost
packed inside closets
a collection of Things
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
sometimes it feels as through
a body is just
a crossroad
a bridge through time
connecting moments
but I know what waits
on the other side
a spirit cannot cross running water
torching the flesh
I spill endlessly
and we meet at the ocean
 taxidermy jesus · Sun Jan 30, 2022 @ 01:37pm · 0 Comments |
