hostile/rejection

Within the within

of me I insert

my hands emerge with

a dark, grotesque cobwebbed mass entangled around my true self:

a beating heart.

True self is a heartbeat wrapped in the lies

I have told, the truths I have

not told, banished beneath embarassments, memories of off-kelter nights, wrong

words, knives pointed inward, wrists 

slit, betrayals knit, lack, flaws, every

thing else I am or am not that I think I should or should not be

myself.

My hands press into the grungy blob I can’t feel

the beat of true self hidden within

my within. Husk the fragment, feel

needles of light, a closeness not claustrophobic like

clouds hung low in the sky no

rain drops fall. The space this pressure creates peels the layers away, feels

beat of true self hidden within my

within.

The heartbeat is there, fragile as

a fairy whisper of wonder: will she ever leave

me alone? The compulsion to caress and near the heartbeat is overshadowed by

the need to change

–reject–

her.

 

(At the end) I find the opaque blob to be the sum:

pain + shame + fear = separation from essence. The cruelest sensation known

to humankind.

Upon the self that is roped within

my self I inflict

this home-cooked hostility

habitually.

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