Coming home--wet and cold
With sore feet.
My insides match my outward appearance.
Peeling off my layers,
And collapsing into bed.
It hugs around so perfectly--(the bed)...
I embrace the sinking sensation.    Sink,   Sink,
                                     Morph,   Morph,
                             Decompose.
                                                    P­eacefully.
  It's no longer about me, and my separation from the rest of the world.
I don't have to feel the separateness
                                                    ever again.
     It feels great
to feel insignificant.
     Nothing unusual or confusing...
             And nothing to be criticized.
                 Just the meldings of the world and who "I" am.
                               Disappearing and becoming re-birthed
                 Into a place of different feeling. A different kind of being.
                                                             . . .
              ...My insignificance is what makes me feel special sometimes.


                                                    ­        . . . .

                                            ~I want to be tucked away~
                                ~In everything that is quiet and kind.~