ouch, poetry, psychic poetry

Going through the motions: steps and stops

I need to leave for a while.

To come undone and take a breath in presence.

Something more present than this myriad of steps and stops.

Going through the motions,
The movements of what looks like content, but feels like absent acts.

I’ll go away for a while.

And if I return, I’ll always wonder if this time I’ll stay content a little longer than the last.


ouch, poetry, psychic poetry

Ouch #007

My heart swells with a sadness that comes from wanting and not receiving,

made worse by a serious effort in trying.

Conditions to protect myself from harm, fill me with woes of self-loathing.

What defeats me is the reminder that I am the devil that created this wake.

Only by my will can it shake.


ouch, poetry, psychic poetry

Ouch #006

Rising from the ashes sounds like a relief.

But it is actually a lot more tumultuous than that.

You’re in pain.

Because what once was is no longer so.

And though you trust that it is better; your body is so new you’re afraid that your bravery will be broken by the slightest whisper.

There is an identity to what we hold onto.

It tastes sickly. For there is little comfort in smoke.

We forget that what dies into cinders is not all of us.

What is removed is dead growth.

In its place is the fire within, expanded into embers of warmth.