Body and mind are

capable of compromise --


but the heart is not.

My hand wants to know
what I, what they
want, do, and to
understand what is happening

to my body, and what
it has to do with me

My soul also wants to
know in order to know
and to laugh about it
when I think I know something

Laugh relievingly
Think about why

others do what they do
and then, what hold
my hand has
to help

I think ahead
behind my clouds
the sun shines
the sun smiles

To be knelt in a shower
Watching crimson mix with water
Some good ol’ fashioned
Pain drain

Bloodletting
How delicious

What is it about a cleansing ritual
That brings
Soot to surface

It’s scar tissue
Meets fresh wounds
Amidst the carnage
A kernel of truth

Cartography
How scrumptious

What is it about toweling off
That removes
Less than we thought

It’s whispered words
Meets silent screams
All this chaos
What does it mean

Decryption
How cathartic

What is it about slipping into jeans
That tucks away the secrets
Folds up the mental maps
Slurps the blood from the floor
And masks us up
For the world to adore

///

“How was your weekend?”

(wait, what’s my line?)

Plasma
A flushed cheek
“Oh…it was fine”
smiles

Merely existing
How divine

///

If love cannot be

expressed, it expresses itself --


disguised as disease.

My body welcomes

many guests, it is a home --


for thoughts and feelings.

My mask is smiling

quite happily, I'm not sick --


but I'm frustrated.