if it would prove me—as an irreducible creature—giving
pride to its belief … the breed of its creed, the vocal cords as they envelope,
like parasols and nature—the anxiety of being perfect, the beauty in showing
vulnerability, at least, for a normal person … into something different, the
use of another soul, with self, feeling privileged to be used. so grand the
penalty, years with an adversary, so often they come: you stand in shadows, you
play piano, you take your tips in spirit—we know not to approach. it shames me—with
becoming, demands seclusion—adjudge the supposition. the feeling has come, it
will settle, it will evaporate—or stay for a time. in debating the you in me,
it was hectic to walk in that direction, with spirits often visiting each
other. it hurts, but it isn’t just a need to touch, it might be a need for a
minute of redemption—so much omission, in every confession, unless one is
depleted, out of options, at the end of that tether ball—bandaged and gray,
gifted and unsteady, shattered and put together—by strange palms, a loving
soul, to have restored belief in humanity. too early to notice. too much
curiosity to ignore actions. so plural at times, rethinking isolation and
tradition.
