How to undust
My real
Spontaneous self?

I'm so afraid to
Show myself

It seems impossible.
It's stuck in my throat.
My breathing gets shallow.
I smile fake smiles
I'm sad and still don't cry those tears.
My soul screams.

To inhabit the space  within
oneself,  to such a degree
that the skin, thins itself out

    in order to leave  room
    for that which is  to occupy--

An indwelling  
of self,  to such a degree
as to stretch the skin
to full capacity..

    leaving no room  
    for ambiguity--

All cells and atoms, within
now  fully occupied,

   fully inhabited

by the most beautiful  
form of indwelling  of all--


   That,  of the self.

Perhaps I peered too closely into the abysmal potholes of other people’s souls
of whom I had no business pilfering through in the first place.
Now I ponder about feelings and memories that do not belong to me
some of which are long forgotten, disregarded, or even irrelevant.
Of this information that I have unearthed and processed, I know not what to do with it.
I am perpetually preoccupied with what lies beneath the surface point, which is what pushes me forward, yet could propel me to my downfall.
I just sit here and anxiously ponder this arcane information I acquiesced
through means not noble to my standard of normal morals.
There is nothing else to do.
For I rest here in the realm of reality.
This is no novel of fiction for me to figure out.
I can’t flip through the pages of people’s plights.
Something like that does not fall within my rights.
I am a mere meddling mortal amongst other mortals.
I am no god who sits proudly upon their plethora of others’ secrets.

I am just another human being.