Nighttime Haunts the Muscles

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When the body is trying to seep out stress and left over tiers of toxins from deep inside the bottom of the spine, nighttime haunts the muscles. Memory sits inside the aching, begging to be read.

Who knew being a scribe could be this painful?

This life has been multiple occurrences in one. They have sprawled themselves upon each other and danced within the seams. I speak from the hollow caves, reading my own hieroglyphs. Who was I when I wrote this?

Time is crawling me toward new grief. I lament a broken up family. I fight the urge to curl in fetal positions to sleep the rest of this life away. Sing me the blues, baybay, while I dream up a fancy parade.

I am tired, dear mothers. The fatigue is catching up. Got a lotta tears. Hand me a cup.

No one knows the aching of the other. We each carry our own cane, carved with the totem of every time someone caused us pain. I stand inside the ice rain, pummeling down on my face.

Everything is spilling in words, books, music and art. Tumbling out chaotic holding remnants of my heart. I knew what lived beneath, the faces of the sweetest greys smiling back at me.

When we have traveled in otherkin time to otherkin realms and sang their rhymes, it hurts to make the backward leap and hold the planets as they weep.

Still, I embrace the hope like a floating strand of tattered rope, watching the shore with narrowed eyes as I fight the undertow.

Be brave. Be wild. Be kind. Don’t let others sway the mind. Be loud and silent in same and never live this life in shame.

As I step into the stage the silence welcomes me. Stroking human heart strings is when I am most free. Solving language puzzles, I watch you feel with me.

Don’t store the detritus in your body. It will mire down your feet. When the urges knock on your eyelids, loves, you let your sweet souls weep. Feeling everything never makes you weak.

Walk here with me, Empath. Let’s sit silent by the sea. Let’s feel the waves engulf us as the tides wash us clean. I’m almost to the top, to the view belonging to me. A lake, a space, and morning birds, that’s really all I need.

For now I hug myself, in the darkness of this eve, cuz these lines have been a momentary relief from the sympathetic aching.


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