to all the peeps whom hurt me, whom i thought had loved me, who had held me close to their breasts... in times of vulnerability and openness and unpretentious acceptance, i believed.
& to those in whom i had blindly believed, and from whom i had not expected the same but had hoped in blind faith would come,
to all those moments i realized, that i silently knew, that i heard my gut speak out-
yet had heard and not listened,
to the nights i spent mourning,
and the days i woke grateful- for the pain and the promise the candor and the compromise,
the notions of wellness and lightness of being and unforgiven instances no matter how great -
to the ultimate reality and the ultimate ignorance and the ultimate need to let it all go,
i imagine great landscapes of resolve and rainy tuesdays with drawn curtains,
smoking & vinyl & green tea & carpet picnics... great formidable reprieves from ego.
a tasteless remnant, a memory's imprint an unforced intrigue not held at the helm
sensual and vast, in blows the weather- infusing the night, a narration its own.
to the storm and the sacrifice and the freedom that whispers, a song that is resonant of reprogramming my routes.
& to those routes that will lead to a soulful salvation, i thank thee with tenure, & perpetual grace.
Love leans in with forgiving Grace to replace the millennia of suffering with an opportunity for elevation, for re-creation of our species&...
The vision shared by those who stand beside one another, when is it the same? What fosters alignment? Is there opportunity to be separate ...
Hypergraphia, the cure for writer's block + the balance between compulsion and intention, primal urge + cerebral impulse: an active-experiment in understanding.this goes out to the scribes and the smiths, and those with epilisotory hearts and minds full of verse, with stomachs full of synonyms and m...