**tw's: sui ideation, sh implied**
never grew out of anything: still dressed in children's clothes & my heart locked in a birdcage: all i ever do is envision to become / but never turn the switch up / calculate the mechanics of the sum / but never press the trigger of the gun.
my body is an earthquake / or not / or the mountain that crumbles down / i forgot
to choose your weapon: was it the hurt or the want? war is just the bruising of a name / & then the blood dance / some happenstance
beyond sacrifice / the tick & the flick of an artifice & sometimes the stains pour out / this is the vowels forgetting to protect us & the letters
burn / disfigure & you swear & it is my name, the utterance
that undoes the lord's work. i agree that hearts are not to be aligned / all the time but
my loss is a cross i wear proudly: nailed & chained / my own crucifixion to behold. a jagged root pins me to you, dirt-encrusted:
long hair always snared on things. sharp lines only glide in dreams & somewhere else / you prepare to satisfy the bloodthirst i am yet to escape from / this
turbulence / out of body / experiences make memories / in places where having a body means losing the war / i keep an hourglass heart / sand-trapped & grain for grain / i wake up in desserts & i am home again.
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body work
Poetry**for fans of plath, anne sexton & ocean vuong** 'body work' is a captivating collection of poetry that delves into the depths of human experiences, exploring the intricate relationship between the physical body & the emotional & spiritual realms. w...
