in every poem i am always trying
to describe a complex (simple?) feeling that is located
deep, inside the center of my chest
it tends to feel empty, dark, abysmal, open, wound-like
it comes to point somewhere infinitely inside to a place
that i haven't been to
(ever
not ever
not ever
maybe before
but not ever)
at the same time
it's a place of death and smells like dreaming
sticky
walls
that squeeze and stretch the spot out farther. inward.
and you think this, the unknown cell-covering you go to when
you have forgotten to pay attention
that "other place"
and you aren't noticing the present moment
in time
we danced
once
and you threw me in the air so that
my feet knocked out the light
and that's all you remember of me
kind of place
that's almost nothing
and almost who you really are
vacant silhouette of your own memory of yourself self
and it squeezes
it squeeeeeeezes
tightens
like a
hemorrhoid
but inwards
pulls
that black-hole spot
through the center of my chest
squeezing and tightening my soul out the back
(the inwards backwards that never exits)
i thought we were all born with one
the thing that disappears you
and you
the thing that fights against becoming disappeared
a body
and the hair that grows that is not your self
and the nails that grow that are not your self
and the body you grow is not
your
self
or, i might've just been disappeared
clear.
[motion of getting the charge ready in the air]
CLEAR!
<3
