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