BOOT(S)TRAPS
11.4.20
My eyes have become a ping pong ball between Blue and Red lines.
You’re going to be scared anyway. Might as well have something to show for it. This body of mine may very well become a graveyard of all the lives I’ve lived, so I make it a point to rise every morning without body bags under my eyes.
Let them see the world new, get lost on the same street over, and over, and over, this neighborhood is so beautiful, have you seen?
May I forever wonder if I’m worm, or bird, or both, maybe neither this morning. Maybe I’m weasel, otter, fox, horse, frog, dragonfly, and yeah, some days may I be dragon, or leopard, or beast.
There’s only so many time you can write out fear and anxiety before you take a lesson from your thighs. How they hold eachother like unashamed lovers in a world where everyone is so scared to touch the most human.
I want to be like that. Always touching the parts of myself that keep me in my body. Forgetting what they feel like, and discovering them again. Loving until I don’t, grieving until I can’t, and doing it all over again.