 Sensation of time
arches from a moment of nothing into a full embodiment of here. I can sit and hum, turn the edges of the day, let the nerve fly and suck the air into the pores of human longing, still I know my will’s relinquished. Something very owned. By itself. Something caught and then flustered, while spinning, having once no, many times, attempted explosive freedom - now reanimates but as a different breath. It shudders at the speed of memory, as the pixelated detail fills the brain, inhaling what once passed, releasing love again. It was a cyclone. The psychosis set on fast. Through the streets she flew like a cicada, thoughts laced with vibration, movements very subtle and then extreme, solidifying visions, measured auras, temperament akimbo, love undone, undone. Undone! I screamed. So what, now, just to understand. To stretch the cosmos, flatten the emotional sting, explain away the tangled corner, the maze where I got stuck, and stuck, then again unstuck, and sunk. Into the very very very bottom. Alone, and red, so dark and red. A point of focus, just ahead, a shining trinket, a metal bed. The siren, firemen, and blackened pupils - ah - these triggers float, they burn the throat. The thought roams away. To write it down is hell. What of my hell, the sorrow’s gone, the shock’s worn off. Acceptance has danced, the family has held, my skin is whole, mostly, and the fever has abated. Many years have passed since I froze and unfroze and died a bit and then rose, and the brain is working fine, and the heart is beating well, and with many thanks and deep long breaths, my spirit sings and has birthed a perfect child… So why have I come again to these stark words? What rage has found me again at the pen, wanting that hungry rabid creativity which has eluded me as of late… oh heart, give it. Pour it. There’s a gnawing beauty at the helm. Pushing through the coarsest truths of my denials. And after having withered quietly beneath inertia, I now reawaken it. Behold!
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