dignity

how to be wild

how to be proud

do we owe it to each other

to be the fullest self

to search and dig

through the grit and rock

till fingernails break

and palms are blistered

but what we uncover on the way

we keep

we store within our soul

in layers shallow and deep

and don’t we owe it to each other

to fight to discover ourselves

for if we fail to do that

what would we ever learn?

 

 

truth(s)

i have forgotten

what it means to be real.

 

I have forgotten that skin and flesh

and soul and mind

belong to each other.

 

I have forgotten that my universe

and my surroundings

depend on each other.

 

I have been juggling two truths.

 

What my eyes see

and my skin feels

 

versus my imaginations interpretation.

 

whirled and battered is my internal perspective.

 

how could everything be so clear and clean and polished in my vision

 

yet chaotic and fluid

— where gravity pulls and twists

the matter of my thoughts

with such intense velocity

that a strand of sense is impossible

to grasp within my mind?

 

how does one make sense

of such a harsh contradiction?

 

that the reality my fingers brush

is so rigid and secure

but my reality

where i will infinitely reside

collapses only to re-morph

with every dash of truth it is confronted with

 

how am i to know which is real then?

free

there was a moment

when i decided to save myself.

 

when i thought: enough.

enough pity

enough fear

enough excuses

 

when i realized that being kind to myself

did not mean

following impulses

basing decisions off convenience

 

and there is no love without challenge

no reward without bravery

 

and as i suddenly decided to attack everything that scared me

 

my terror evaporated and melted into the dewy sponge of my past

 

and my phantom fear was just a stain in my memories

 

and I’m soaring.

19

kick me when I’m down

i want you to

 

throw stones at my soft flesh

until you bruise a beating heart

 

rock me and sway me

make me lose my balance

 

betray me until i’m left to wonder

if we are all just enemies

 

i welcome you to feast on my fear

i invite you to enable me to make myself proud

 

and i warn you

you will be disappointed

 

i am not an easy target

my passive days are passed

 

i will fiercely protect myself

and i will gladly argue darkness with light.

 

therapy

The couch scratched my thigh in the most distracting way. I immediately regretted wearing shorts. As if I was not vulnerable enough, opening my mind and turning my truths into air for others to breath, sound for others to interpret, tangible realities for myself to confront. And the itching of the twill couch on my bare thighs created a most unwelcoming sensation. As if the couch was whispering to me: “pssst, you’re not safe here. You’re not supposed to be comfortable.” My truths are safe inside the private universe of my own mind. Protected by their failure to ever leak into anyone else’s mind space where they could be whirled and battered into anything other than what they are to me. He sat across from me, his eyes awaiting my exposure as if his delicious prey was cornered.

Desire to Dissolve Judgment

Oh, you’re one of those.

Oh, you’re one of those people,

Oh, you’re one of those girls,

You’re one of them.

 

Into corners we push our foreign

The disagreers, the nonbelievers,

Neatly dusted into piles where we can ignore them

And through objectification we are freer.

 

We are not homogenous

Not like those with the audacity to disagree

With the individual humans that make us

For we are safe from their obscenity.

 

Speak your mind of course,

As long as it abides by our unspoken consensus

(Or is laced with agreeable remorse)

that our beliefs are relentlessly just.

 

Should you disobey,

May you live pleasantly,

With them.

 

But then how could I be one of them (a),

When they just called me one of them (b)?

Do I become one of them (x)? them (z)?

Could I just be one of… me?