Honestly

My ankles are weak but my feet are sturdy

My bellybutton’s deep but never dirty

I type so fast set fire to a QWERTY

Here’s my point (I’ll prolly get wordy):

Heaven’s door was recessed.not so good was my best.It took money and honey to make me feel blessed.

There were injuries, absurdities, addictions and rushes.Cancerous deleterious hallucinations and crutches.

Then my feet slipped.all reality flipped.The good was now bad and my white cloak had ripped.

So I wiped clean my nose.got up on my toes.Leaped off the cliff and fell into the flow.

Beliefs cast in steel, and long-looks and deals, crumbled like cavities.Unsteady.Unreal.

I saw life as a habit, just like huntin’ wabbits.Desperate obsessions that manifest bad bits.

My face was erased.and all I could taste was bloody and urgent.My comfort: effaced.

Coughed up my insides on seashells at low tide.Made love to the moon and gave birth to a pearl scythe.

(A scythe is a tool used by a fool to awkwardly reap what she knows to be true)

SO by my estimation my heart-glow’s inflation is all I will trust as real information.

***

(I trust my generous awakened honest creative loving heart)

Om. Peace. Amen.

Advertisements