beyond the sponge
and spoilings that form my bulk
meat heart beats
but it's not the boast of me
it has tree like dispassion
but then, conflict... 14th / Sept / 2020 / Elsons Crag
The Forest firs sway. The trees bend at the top like sea grass with the tide. Cloud movement strobes sun over this carpet. I view from a cliff.
It stirs rare warmth in my heart half
No !
React under attack. the heart throws up monsters and little stickmen waving spears. violent breathing and horrid garbage and gore and villainous words turned inward and folded and pounded and dough and hurt..
i've turned from the beauty and crouch in a revulsion of balance
this foreign glow cannot be simply experienced. to me, a warm heart is one in need of defence ...as is one in mourning
