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beyond the river
a hillside is forgotten homes whisper their dreams
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I miss the world’s stage.
I miss the immediacy. When nothing else could possibly matter. I was so good at shutting out until they asked to let me in. Why would I champion the practice that hurt me? Pulled me from safety, stripped me naked- Did it? Or did I fight a mere bubble bath? Was I so scared of being naked in front of my peers, my industry, my world that I awakened a Bull who blamed the bumps and bruises on the layout of the store? A wordy yelp review for the Mom & Pop who only wanted one, mildly nice vacation along the shore. But, no. The system is stronger than that. The bath asked me to be the Bull No. The bath asked you to NOT be a bull- The bath asked nothing of you. But the bubbles would wash you away, revealing a slimy, over-fed rat incapable of anything substantial- Is that true? Or would the bath reveal an animal unknown? Kept from creation due to paralyzing fear of the long, confused pause before someone decided to speak, to name. Blue Socks and a Black Heart
Unlock the cell of yesterday and I leap headfirst into tomorrows never to be seen An apostrophe placed gently above the common fantasy makes it my own and Lights, go on Voyeur and Viewer who embrace in parts they wrote for and play for only the other Reality is water of continual thirst And I am nursing a toothache for sweetness only the mind can conjure A past-bedtime story Where kisses don’t hurt I am touched by the ground and the darkness grants me comfort Alone in a trolley up to heaven you kiss me like we are in danger |
AuthorQueer. he/him. Good witch. Archives
October 2022
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