The Embrace of my veins and my heart
has tightened.
Arteries wrap around the red flesh
as would the vines of a ****
-around the trunk of a tree.
I feel I have become rooted
in the rotting Earth
while my branches grasp
for the impossibility
of fragmented clouds.
My empty blood travels
-in hues of violet and indigo-
through the imprisoned tree
that is my Body.
I reach both extremes
but I am never satisfied.
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 10:03 AM UTC
The Embrace of my veins and my heart
has tightened.
Arteries wrap around the red flesh
as would the vines of a ****
-around the trunk of a tree.
I feel I have become rooted
in the rotting Earth
while my branches grasp
for the impossibility
of fragmented clouds.
My empty blood travels
-in hues of violet and indigo-
through the imprisoned tree
that is my Body.
I reach both extremes
but I am never satisfied.
Feeling a little inspiration from some truly incredible Japanese authors like Yukio Mishima and the artist Yayoi Kusama.
