My body is the one thing I have control over. I keep it covered, hidden, hunched over a screen. I stuff it with sugar and refined flour. I clean it with skin stripping soap and hard water. But I expect it to radiate health, vitality and freedom. Then I slouch when the new boss makes me feel like a child, after I stand, sit, kneel and smile for an assembly line of people while they stack their loaded opinions upon me. Yet I’m mad at myself because I walked most of mile 10, and this afternoon I noticed my imperfect posture in the bathroom mirror. I mean really… what is so damn hard about standing up straight?
Cut my strings and set me free. I’m ready to float, to pop, to equalize. The desire alone might make me an impostor, but that isn’t my business to decide. So, don’t throw away the wind just yet.
I like it when they show up a little unraveled. I prefer them this way. It’s how they react to the accidental unveiling of their human-ness that turns me on. Then once I get a glimpse, I am driven like mad to uncage, uncover, undress.
Mind your frayed ends, I have a keen eye, and an inability to resist.
Bloopety blop, a-hoppity hop
Delivered under the guise of innocence
Your message of provocation
And counterfeit compassion
Dippity dip, a-zippity zip
You are entitled to nothing
Least of all, your shitty opinion
Rarely, Occasionally, Sometimes, Often
He lured me out of 3pm paralysis with a homemade pumpkin butter cappuccino. He passed it to me under the verbal contract that I would take it and run. One minute; inside, defeated, rock bottom. The next; outside, invincible, on top of the world. In between; caffeine, a deviled egg, a definitive shove- without which I’d stand, prepared but perplexed, at the glass door for hours, gazing out to the street, contemplating the life I could have if only I knew how to operate the handle.
The new wing is open, but no one dares enter the unknown
While not admirable, restraint remains popular
I’ve run out of water, but I’m too polite to ask for more
I subsist on the light on the moon, understanding it too will wane
Pour myself a glass of water, cross the baricade
Run outside this moment, ask the light to stay
Markings on the tower
Antiquated methods of communication
Guaranteeing someone recognizes
The existence of that moment
I desired to extend myself into the future