My thoughts are barbed wire,
a legion of cold, prickly strangers.
Can I come inside
your mind for a while?
I am tired of myself,
of my war-weary ego,
of oil slicks and fires
with grins wide enough
to swallow a man whole.
My heart is a broken-winged bird,
buried inside a bodice of flesh and bone.
If I let you exhume and unwrap me
will you let me see your vulnerable side
and should I find it within myself to fly
will you be both the wind that lifts me
and the roots that summon me home?
My voice is the sound
of the shore as it is
picked clean and pulverized
by tides both trivial and tyrannical.
I am struggling to find my courage.
Will you stand by me, for me,
against me when I’ve lost my way?
My body is full of conduits
and everything that enters me
finds a place and a means
by which to exist and multiply.
I write and I am made manifest.
I am full of coincidences,
of numbers repeating.
I am a dream too real
to be misplaced or undressed.
I am no more or no less.
I am the other side of you.
I am not sure this makes sense I am feeling overwhelmed and stressed at the moment