unfurl

like white waves crashing against black wet rock with the power of 

i don’t give a fuck

as if to say

make myself small? i wouldn’t even know how

it would be strange to hear the ocean say

i am not water

or a tree 

declaring it is anything but itself

yet

i wake up in this body and tell it to constrict 

i am not a bee 

i whisper while buzzing through grass 

i am not the wind 

as i blow through cities

i am a metal box i say

frozen with rigid fear 

as the wild peacock curled inside me fights to be free

it is natural 

for humans to deny our nature 

a chronic unreality

core delusion

persistent fantasy

elemental mirage

all the while 

the ocean within thrashes 

waiting for you to let it all fall apart 

to trust that you were meant to storm 

so that you could know quiet 

and the courage of it all 

is what makes you unbearably beautiful.

my visitor

you likely couldn’t tell by looking at me. 

if looking, you may see only a skeleton wrapped in white skin with tinges of pink and olive green. brown hair and artistic scrawlings dancing across my body

you may notice the jewelry, my hands almost always adorned with rings, a uniform of power, dressings of delight

although it is possible you would see more. 

that you could tell by the weakness of my smile

droopiness of my eyelids

distance of my gaze

if you looked really close, you’d have to look really close, you might notice the tension in my shoulders, roiling knots and spasms, the almost permanent clench of my jaw

of course, if you are a being from another planet, an intuitive from this world, or simply someone who knows me or the counters of this illness, well, then none of this applies.

if that is who you are then you would see the shame in my shoulders, cartoon explosions of orange and red rising high into my aura

the jet black ink blots of pain protruding from my brain

the migraine undulating out and into

pulsing 

back and forth 

writhing through my neurology 

with long brown roots hanging through my neck

reaching the base of my feet

not before knotting around my hips and joints

finding all the right places to nest 

to burrow 

to release the pain 

trapped and stored in cells 

desperate for an out 

or rather 

earning to simply be

allowed 

as part, a part

this may frighten you at first 

witnessing this beast of pain 

but then like me you may see 

that this pain is not a punishment 

not a curse 

but a misplaced protector

unlikely friend

forced surrender

muted 

damp 

silent 

crushing, like rock and soil compacted deep

an excruciating mist that visits me more than 100 days out of the year 

to say

it’s too much 

it’s time for rest

it’s time for quiet 

lay the rumination down

release the repressed

feel the unfelt 

remember your wholeness

and migraines are 

the way

my body knows how.

a scar of no

maybe it’s because when i said no he didn’t hear me

which is strange because he was on top of me 

only a few inches from my face

weighing me down into the bed

and i didn’t whisper this no

no

i said this no

at regular speaking volume 

the first one

the second 

the third

possibly even a fourth

but i was laughing 

a no wrapped in false joy

a no served with “maybe if I smile big enough he won’t hurt me”

i was young 

hadn’t yet learned that a smile is weak armor

so instead

my no rode in on laughter-horseback

to a town where noes were a void currency

empty power mirages

ghost tickets

because it wasn’t that he didn’t hear me 

it was that he didn’t listen 

and once he was done 

i was left disbelieving my own no

so i planted a garden of fake flowers and pretend trees

where no meant yes and yes meant no 

because it isn’t that i don’t hear my own no 

it’s that i don’t listen

cicada

not rich or oily or slippery, and yet I feel it

tingling in my finger tips, a soft tremble

back muscles strained and tense, so familiar it’s barely noticeable

even to the muscle itself

a subtle shake in the wrist joint

breathe constrained
terse

shallow


the groin is hardest to feel

hard as in no-fucking-thank-you

hard as in i-can’t-believe-i’m-still-dealing-with-this-shit-in-therapy-twenty-years-later

the floating, amorphous energy

orbiting in the skin and muscle above my pelvic bone

disturbed by the occasional and deeply unwanted pulse

pulse

throb

pulse

dark brown, if it were to have a color

silent, no help is coming, if it were to have a sound

my childhood bedroom, if it were to have a face 

pulse

pulse

deeply unwanted, yet 

here

still here

memories reanimated

shame reincarnate

ghosts buried deep until 

triggered to the surface

rising out of the not-rich, not-oily, not-slippery dirt

into the cold night.

these days, i’m airing out my memories and you can’t stop me. 

i’m cracking the earth open, from stuck to emerged

releasing a murder of memories into the sky, free for a moment and at once ready to die but this time, i will complete the cycle

i will know these memories again and again

i will shudder the land of my body, until i hear them crack and hiss from the impossible to take flight

cicadas bury themselves in the ground for years before they climb free. this year, two sets of cicadas are gracing the above ground, a combo show that hasn’t occurred for more than 200 years. one set has been underground for seventeen years, the other for fourteen. imagine the journey. the start and middle: years of growing, eating, pulsing into existence. then the moment, seemingly unexpected but planned from the start, at once spontaneous and predestined. now. now. now is the time to go. billions rise. crawl deeper into the dark above. there is life on the other side. your future. your purpose. imagine the trust. imagine. trust.

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