1. Memories, For, When I Am. (Being edited 2024)

Kizuna (Bond)

Wrapped inside a cocoon made of flesh and bone,

We coagulate together, us beings like blood cells in a clot,

Trapped inside a tomb of flesh and bone inhospitable,

Wanting only to connect, to consociate, we are sought out as ghosts in the night.

Want to form.

Want to be.

Want to connect.

Want peace.

Want love.

Want Friendship.

Thronged together by our tsoris and exuberance,

Remaining in wait for when another human strokes your skin,

Letting them in before you both go, to be of some beneficence.

Without this we become ornery and penitent towards our actions,

All for the bonds we wanted to give.

Need to care.

Need to hold.

Need to feel alive.

Need somewhere, someone, to call home.

We wake up in a world disillusioned and capricious,

Our perceptions notwithstanding, allowing us to adhere to those we know.

It's not simple thinking of letting go,

When there's so much to uphold where it was not thought of hitherto.

When we fall down what will happen to what we love?

When we take one piece and set it aside, what is left incomplete?

When we become complacent with our lives, what have we left to come undone?

Winter bird wrapped inside a cocoon made of flesh and bone,

Doesn't really matter where we come from.

Human life in this strange world is ubiquitous,

Coalescing when it needs to,

Coming together when it wants to,

Connecting to remember how it feels to be alive.

I wake up to experience life not knowing how to interpret it.

I step outside my home seeking someone to hold and someone to hold me,

The kindness and amorousness that tends to reach far from my grasp,

But it's alright, in the boisterous crowds I find silence,

In this silence I found others who feel alone.

A contagion I'd like to catch and give away to those around me,

This is what I would have said 6 years ago.

I have staked my claim, pretension over the bonds I've made,

They are my own, I breath in and revel in this accomplishment.

Without the people I've surrounded and shared myself with, iniquity is all I would harbor.

Leaving me.

Left behind.

Growing.

Flowing.

Have friendship.

Have love.

Have form.

To no avail, still seeking home.

Another miniscule spec on my mother, earth,

But I know that spec can find her strength in the ones she calls "friend",

From whence she came, and to think she's made it this far,

I've made it this far,

Because of my want for others to feel more than alive.

The heart is a beautiful special program,

The sense of heart cannot be grasped or replaced, in its wake it is an immaterial thing,

A mysterious thing we seek out in hopes of sharing it.

And so I have,

And so we have,

To do away with the threads that bind me,

To do away with the threads that bind us.

Together, we don't need to feel trapped inside a cocoon made of flesh and bone.

Together,

I will make the pain my own.