————————
I fear that, with age, the vast freedom of my capacity of thought disintegrates into a baser human. Am I evolving backwards? With every hour, do I grow closer to existing as the image of what I believe to be human when, in the same vein, my youth had existed as a strange alien? Am I learning to pretend so that I very well may be, or am I melting into a genuine body?
Free me! Free me! Bring me back my swaddled blanket and stubby fingers! Bring me back my not-being! Take me back to my mother; to the vastness of space where I know not the physical sensations, but the feeling and the thought, and the emptiness between!
————————
(July 15th, 2024.)
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Collection.
PoetryEvery poem that I have ever written in my designated poetry journal since the day I was eleven years old. Read at your own risk. 😎
