#heartcentered
A little black puppy
At my tentative greeting
Wagged their tail surely.
Then, rushed into my arms passionately unreservedly
Giving me countless kisses all over me.
Your little body against my skin and clothes,
How warm
How soft
Like the spring sunshine,
Like tears of joy.
So that adults and children not far away screaming in fear at your nearness
Saddens me
As I turn away
I already miss you.
Your warm, slightly burning body.
Your softness.
Your gentle fur rubbing against my skin.
The dust in your hair was left on me
Clean water will bring it back to the world once again
And as you roll around on the ground with your friends again in your family's displeasure
It will come back onto you again
In my dreams tonight
You'll be a hundred times larger
Your hair will grow so long to burry me in it
In our adventures in the dark forest
You'll protect me surely
As sure as how you wagged your tail at me.
We'll meet again
All the puppies in the world
We'll meet again
That day,
I become you
You become me
Jan 30
Jan 30, 2026 at 11:39 AM UTC
In the corners of music and in spaces between punctuations of others' stories I search and imagine for the substance of your love, arriving for me.
The glory of its shadow, from the achievements of my imagination, lights up my gently, quivering heart.
The solidity of it filters through my porous mind, and surprises it there.
It's giant, yet lands without a sound, glimmering, gently, quietly.
Like the sound of a breeze passing though airy lashes of soft, gazing eyes.
I cannot forget this warmth. It holds every one of the pores of my body, and celebrates each with a gentle, feather-like mini firework.
I hold my dreams open
All the weight of its out-pouring past content feels less dense than your gaze in my direction,
With your whole permanent existence blessing and loving the whole of my permanent existence.
Jan 30
Jan 30, 2026 at 10:51 AM UTC
There is an ant lying quietly on my sink
Its body, so small, so tiny, so innocent
Its limbs so deeply relinquished, powerless
Its head tilted to the side
So peaceful and tender
Making it look like a baby in deep slumber
I, a giant body, gaze at the little tiny ant
In infinite tenderness and compassion
Softly collecting it into my arms, rocking it in imagination
I blow on to it
Its tiny antennae sway up and down, gently, lightly
Hi there, tiny little ant
See you, tiny little ant
Jan 30
Jan 30, 2026 at 10:47 AM UTC
The signals of the itch
Like occasional asteroid explosions in the distant universe—
shrill,
Abrupt,
Then slowly subsiding
My body feels like a giant telegraph tower
Surges of radio signals sent with electric wave sounds loud and quiet on and off all over me,
I watch
Quietly
A bit lost
Like a bewildered giant
As if my body doesn't belong to me
As if there is a confidential mysterious exchange between it and something that's totally oblivious to me
I watch
Like an innocent outsider
I listen
As the exchange continues on without abating
As I fall asleep
All the lights still flickering
All the sounds popping on
Bright and dim
Sharp and blunt
Abrupt or consistent low humming
A giant building of sparkling sensations
The black medium of the universe containing planetary detonations
On and off
Here and there
Now and then
I awaken,
In the morning
To a quiet body
I don't know what has happened over the night
I don't know about the progression of the exchange
Has it finished?
As I wonder,
The signals quietly reemerge,
The sounds rerise.
I get up and off my bed
Now I'm a walking telegraph building.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 8:20 AM UTC
My eczema is climing me like creepers climbing a wall
It is always reaching further on my surface
Where is it going?
As if it has a mysterious destination that has always been just right out of reach
It looks all pink and explosive
Like still fireworks
Frozen on the surface of my skin
Frozen
Like oil paint tossed into my skin
And paused there then
For now we have to live together
Me and this vibrant, electric plant
"What is the significance of your appearance?
I ask of it
It stays silent,
And still.
Breathing,
Through its quiet, pulsating itching
I have to refrain from touching it
Its poisonous, tiny, sensitive sakura petals
Resisting the lure of its enticing breaths.
It fully presents its existence
Fully open
Exposed
Wide-spread
As if tranquilly embodying its quiet innocence
Peacefully claiming its righteous presence
I watch
In a distance
In wary admiration
Watering it twice a day, carefully
And applying translucent, pure white vaseline
As if taking care of its delicate beauty
It lets me be
Lets me do whatever I want with it
It pays no mind
It shrinks when that's the direction of the wind
And it absorbs the aliveness for growth happily
From when I sometimes give up resistance
And indulge in its inviting fragrance
Then caught by regret afterwards,
When watching its pleasantly enlivened pink existence, charged, ready
And let out a sigh in deep remorse.
Its art embedded, blooming, serenely, above the intricate highways of my running blood vessels
Sometimes I hold resentments against it,
Its pink, alarming, worrisome colors
Its ever-present attempt to lure, ****** my touching.
Sometimes I let it be
Admiring its art
Like how it lets me be
It /is/ like an art
Non-verbal messages are carried within its sudden appearance in my gallery, my body
To be understood, felt, through experiencing, through me
It's a language spoken to me through my skin
It's a gast of wind flared with fire flames blowing through my porous physicality
Leaving fiery marks on my surface
And when my being finishes registering its messages
It will leave me
It will leave the way it arrived
Suddenly
Entirely
Quietly
Leaving my skin peaceful again
Like water restored from ripples of a suddenly dropped stone chip
Back to being a windless mirror
Then will I miss it?
I won't.
Maybe I will,
In my change,
In my poetry
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 8:18 AM UTC