Tiny Thoughts.

50

491
There are certain poisons,
Ones that affect the human race,
Plagues that never lose their beat.
Greed.
Selfishness.
Money.
Arrogance.
But it runs deeper,
We hear those words,
But we do not understand.
Arrogance: my ancestors blood crying within me from lost tradition, forced religion.
Arrogance: "I will never understand" you will, you can. You just aren't planning to.
Money: "the state can't afford that." It is hurting people. People have higher value than cash and banks.
Selfishness: "well it doesn't effect me so why should I do anything" chances are it does. And if it doesn't, it affects someone you know.
Greed: it makes you blind.
These are the plagues of our mind.
The plagues of capitalism, government, money, religion, privilege, centralism, superiority.
The sickness of the human collective.
Something not treatable by medicine, doctors, hospitals,
Not pills or therapies,
Not scientists or nurses.
A plague of the mine.

492
Skin tight,
Skin thick,
Your hand around my throat,
Pressing all the blood from my body,
Squeezing it out into the finest wine you've ever tasted.

493
I am going to love my body,
Even if,
Everybody tells me not to.

For it is a revolutionary act,
To love the vessel you sail,
Over the vast sea of this world.

494
But I am okay for this moment,
And for that moment,
That's all I had ever been.

495
An ode to the temple of twilight, the one that houses the soul of time, the seeming incarnation of pain galore.
An to ode to the body, that my mind begets.
Forgive me for your pain,
Forgive my for your droughts, your famine, your lost wars, your misfortune.
For I am your king, all highest,
And even I have seemingly abandoned my own people.
Oh traitorous king.
Forgive me, starry universe.
I know what you see disappoints you.
I know not of what you see.
An ode to my neglected temple,
the throne of creativity, mind, pleasure, love.
I hear your cries out why,
I hear,
But hardly listen.
I will remember you,
Your lasting imprint being the grave of your ruin within my head.
For I am a fallen King.
that slipped away from its people woes,
distance was that sin.
And that ghost of twilight,
The ghost of the ode to the temple.
That I previously cared for.
A song for the fallen sky.

496
Blood stained toilet seats,
Music pounding through my chest,
Like the beat of the ocean waves against the moon,
Crinkled hair reflecting back at me,
Scream my name.
Tell me.
I am not the girl.
I am no girl.
You are no woman.
No human.

497
I want the world to embrace its self,
It's hands over sweating, crumpled in bodies,
Tears of angels dripping over arms.
I want the world to hold its breath.
As it rises from the deep.
Soles the size of cities,
Spine the length of boats.
I want the universe to hold itself in its arms,
Muttering over the silent chant of human society.
I am enough I am enough I am enough.

498
I remember the desperate feeling of trying to stop my own tears.
I was ten.
It was a warm winter morning.
My palms scrambling upwards to stop the uncontrollable rivers carving down my cheeks.
Painful and panicked,
My breathing hitches.
Stop the hiccups.
Slow the rate.
You'll need to attend to their needs.
Lift your chin.
You are strong my child.
(Why must I be?)
You can handle this.
(Why must I?)
You have the strength of the sun and moon on your side.
(I do not wish to be a fighter in this war of yours.)
Lift my chin.
My tears smell like sweet ocean brine as they caramelize like onion sprouts at the bottom of my chin.
My fists form.
Manu fica.
I will retain my dignity.
The dignity of a child.
How large.
The dignity I had towards my stuffed animals, my duty to protect the fluffy kingdom.
The dignity I had towards my siblings. To protect and be the hero and knight of their stories.
The dignity I had towards the forest and trees of my childhood home. I was a child of shadow who slept with nightlights. I hopped along rocks. I wasn't afraid to feel pain. To bleed. I identified plants and did not quaver in the face of the monster of the world. I was the ambassador of the forest. The bugs. The birds. I could not back down.
The dignity of the child.
Contains all the vastness of the imagination.
I walked forwards.
I wiped my wet hands on my baggy jeans.
I walked in.

499
Trans-etherealism
Trans-misogyny
Trans-existence.
Trans-division.

Divine creator.
Human producer.
Mend my body,
Shape my soul.
I want to be loved.

500
Somewhere,
Way back in time,
My blue nail polish is chipping,
And I'm not yet sixteen.
Staring myself down in the mirror.
Not yet Wondering,
What is it like?
My dear/
To be a fossil in time?