I slept and woke to form lies. Selves I had dreamed of, brought out for testing. Never without deep holes, spaces  I hadn’t decided on, never would. Flimsy enough to pull adjectives from anyone adjacent.

Ten years, twelve years, seventeen asleep. I couldn’t be there, not in that current, so I chose another home. Inside, locked the door. Forgot. 

I emerged a thing unknown and unknowing, too late to learn lessons. To early to survive where I’d gone.

On horizons I imagined lay ideals I’d imagined, too. Implicitly unreachable. I tried, to hurt myself, I didn’t know.

I’m so grateful for the things that leveled all of it. 


Resurrection; Coming Back

​It’s a skill I’m learning. I know how to speak, how to create, how to rush. I can change and I can destroy. But I’ve never built anything. This is my attempt at tangible. Sturdy. I’m making a cradle where my tired hidden self can rest.

You need to switch your definitions, at times like these.

There is no other way. 

Or else you’ll fade out like a bell that rung too far in the past.


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