Wholeness
That must be the word
If it’s not, that’s fine
I couldn’t care less
I know what I feel, and I can’t deny it
My verses are not for you
They’re for me
Period.
If you understand, congratulations
If not, I’m sorry
Go find a book—one with over a thousand words
Even better if it’s self-help
I need only a few words to say what I want
My therapy is in the verses
I owe nothing to anyone
Liberating
That could be the word too
Doesn’t matter to me
I simply cross my legs in the hammock
and spot a new world of possibilities
waiting for me

I find it beautiful
Something small, hidden
unknown to anyone, becoming something vast
I think I have a knack for this
The words are flowing
I’m no longer trapped behind a dam
I’m free, thirsty to explore new paths
I will pour myself into other waters
and meet new horizons
I want more—so much more!
I am thirsty
I didn’t know I had been dehydrated for so long
This is what I needed
As a certain author once said—yes, you warned me
I didn’t have to go so far
My treasure wasn’t distant
It was right here
where I belong

I feel like I’m about to explode
Not from something bad
But from joy, yes
The very thing I once judged
Turned against me
I had no idea the twist life had in store
I spoke so poorly of poetry
Old thing, boring thing
But now my words
Only know how to be poetic
What was poetry again?
Ah
Yes, my life is now this
Everything is now song and poetry
Life is more beautiful, more colorful
My heart has learned
to love speaking

I decided to run a test
throw a few words on paper
see what would happen
and I was amazed
by what I found

I’ve begun to realize
that great minds
don’t need a thousand words
to change a life
Often
ten
within a poem
can light up
the entire world

No
It’s not that I want to be some new, renowned poet or writer
Remembered in the future
When children will hold their schoolbooks
Studying literature
No, God forbid
I just have to throw these things out
All these words suffocating me
I think I have the gift
**** the rules and the standards
I need healing

Now that they are written,
each fragment in its place,
the weight I carried for so long
has slipped away.

Words, mirrors of the soul,
linger on this page,
pressed like a seal,
marking the moment,
pouring out hope and faith.

Words,
woven like a spider’s web
in the darkness of my heart,
stir and tremble,
whisper like a restless stream,
fully alive,
waiting for their keeper to release them,
to weave a quiet longing,
like a painting on the wall—
a fleeting touch of comfort.

Poets are glowsticks,
snapped,
then they fluoresce.

Liquid light.
Blood of the lightning bug,
squashed and smeared.
Nearly extinct.

Bleed and glow.

The cuts of forever promised,
instead,
they siphoned.

Distilled into purple-red neon,
spelling out:

read me.
know I’ve lost.

Twenty three years of age
She works, and she plays
Oh, she plays!
Controller in hand
The Sims is the plan -
A boring play-style, really,
Fulfilling her what if's
Of marital bliss

                                  What a twist

Cascades of pixelated children
"I think I'll name her.....
Quellcrist!"

She called me over when her parents left, and invited me over for a date.
Before I was in her room
It was advised to bring some protection.
Latex?

All for her to be done?
————

Latex Gloves.
I pulled out and began scanning my fingers across her room.

At the end of the room :vines.

Vines from trees, flowers emerging through and from. An allergenic smell emitted—carving out the thick toxins as they fell onto the floor like a staircase of crumbling debris.
Like pages of books falling flat onto the floor ill by the plague and far from recovery.

The smell of lavendery-daffodils. Like new laundry, everything was scented in this room, by color and by smell.

No visualization decoded by my eyes all because they were fried.
Red and puffed.

The frequency in the room, making zap-roided sounds.
Electric like all the different shades of blue, a savory sound and a unironic taste.
I would not want to explain because I kept it all to myself.

I marveled at it all and not whatever was in front of me.

I viewed her emotions as inferior to this delight of a room.

Far better than anything sensory she could of course do.

A distraction these walls became
Overwhelming to me was not the best of both worlds.

The only distractions were nothing but this interior design…