The soul is missed by me dearly.
It contained within it, simultaneously,
spark, spirit, care, and glimmer.
Lit by an inestimable null.

The escape of which I now suffer.
Is a daily sick.
Of waking up with shuddered groan.

I miss the soul when it had chance.
Even if my end were purgatory.
I'll take the grey to the decisive ends.
Focused edge where bright meets blurry.

Tell me,
How do you walk
With all of that pain?

You move on this earth
Steady, going
For so long now
That you believe
This is
A part of you.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

It sits, quietly
Draining your will,
Your connection.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

It sits, numbing
Out feelings,
Causing friction.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

It sits, waiting
For your eviction.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

So locate it, banish it.
I promise you, I swear
Oh, precious one,

You'll find that 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚.

▪︎ mica light ▪︎

everyday i find myself here
sitting in a bar stool drinking another beer
it's already been half a year
with my memory of each day not always clear
and yet i quaff and i quaff
with no ability to turn it off
then i stumble back into work
telling myself this is only a perk
just a little quirk
to get me through work

Behold!
that drawing in
                 of breath
                         a minty
              entanglement
   of starlit senses
How they curl
       like the opposite
               of smoke
over the very
insides
     of my
           earthen throat
                         crackle of
       autumnal breezes          
whooshing through
like a beacon
And in that
split-second
right before
deep freeze
my molecules
   rise and fall
       in the rhythm
            of snowflakes
each one a
unique entity
   dusting the
            solid soil
                with loamy richness
                    and simultaneous
              feather impressions    
           of relief
Now
like silk draped
alabaster
I am cooled
Like sweet
        river water
  I flow
       rocked by
the slow
churn of
growing freedom
             that alights my pores
arises in tender
stillness
     through the
          looming forests
           of my skin
              penetrates the
                  unseen journey of
                     my night
                 as demulcent
          and persistent
as the balmy petals  
of a
   raging,
fiery
    bloom