I have died and settled down and revived myself in waters that run deep in the rivers of my voice.
my body sighs and it moans and it shivers for surrender upon surrender. it even hates the smell of 4 am/i race.
they should call these late/early morning hours “the times you meet yourself the most”, because i have. i have for so long that it almost makes me know myself even less.
i want to remember.
contain
i want to/
and be contained by your movements,
the memories,
the notches along your back.
sometimes i’d pretend it was the current among me.
and i’d lock myself inside of innervision,
and just lay still.
fearlessly thinking
that i would cherish all the reasons.
that i’d kill myself trying to remember
how i ever dislocated from myself the way you looked at me then.
