I am not my addictions
I am not my trauma induced behaviours and reactions
I am not my diagnosis
I am not broken
I do not need to be fixed
I am not machinery

I am no thing
I am nothing
I am everything

I am I
I am currently individuated
So are you
So are you

Hello!

A table shaped like an hour glass
Seats filled with sand moving slow and fast
A figure sits, veiled and masked
Motions me to join before I can ask
Picks up a kettle of solid brass
In cups they pour, attentive to the task
Watching, waiting, until they finish at last
I reach for my cup but it spills alarming me
For I have broken this hymn like harmony

Deep…
I’m sinking in the dark
The world is upside down
Just the way it should be
I’m taken in by warm skies
And the clouds are tangible

The steep curves of slopes
I climbed crawling
Your breath, the gust
That turned my world over

To reach the rain
I danced on skin
Trenching spells
Caressed soft soil
To split for me a sea of thighs
So I could go the distance
Where We end up as God

All men are particles of time
They come and go as sun and rain
They are inhabitants in a world
beneath or above they don’t know
They slam their hands to God above
And chasten their teeth to him for help
Their last is that they will never know
The accomplishment that gives time its sense  
The call from the East to time above
And back to him all men will go

Close. Welcoming. My
name. David. Absurdly—I mean, out of
tune. Ordinary language permits
the paraphrase:

Things could have been. But
actually are. Countless ways,
certain descriptions. To consider,
“ways things could have been.”

Things might be. The possibilities,
the propositions, the structures.

© Matthew Harlovic