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coded memory :


tonight, i am choking up a fire, tonight the water in me burns and somehow this happens, inside me, making no sense, making only the sense, the sense ripped away from my lungs, my body decaying, how can i hate you and love you both at the same time, paradoxes dwell in me, i suppose this is like when traveling the rocky road home (to oneself) i tell myself to comfort as i push my foot farther down my own throat, yearning for some kind of intensity, some kind of relief from the pain of missing you, of missing me, of not knowing if i can trust myself on the night rides home, always knowing that i can trust something like my capacity to feel such extremities, such extreme seas, always getting closer to the one who i call Mars in me 

tonight, i am remembering warmth and my ability to move with it, to move with the raging rivers in me, and not be drowned, somehow keep my head above water, my ear cocked to the horizon, knowing whispers that remind : hiding my queerness is survival and being gentle, is revolutionary, how i can tend to this body and not have to know its gender, only revel in its fluid memory 

tonight, i am feeling the ache at the center of the spiral between, holding hands with the old ones who redeem my senses of trust, my ability to reel myself back in and be 50% in and 50 out, tending to the different works alive in me, calming the beckoning child but also letting them have their tantrum, what a delicate balance, these hands : reveal 

tonight, i am weaving between worlds, holding both oppressor and oppressed inside my own form, committing to the work of becoming, grateful in the eyes of dewy-starred friend smiles, soft hugs in crowded cafes and cold walks with no intended destination 

tonight, i am stream-fire star-deep hating you, hating myself, vomiting it all up and feeling myself (for a quick moment) turn to stone, only texting back a heart, because it is all i can bear, such anger, such rage, such love pours out of these bones, somehow the water comes out, and it is hot and cold but all the same, some would say these mood swings are “not normal”, and some would say that i “inherited this from my mother”, but i refuse to cage myself  in statements said by those who deny themselves the lavas of pure expression, the fierce beauty of unlimited acceptance of self 

(written beginning of january 2018)

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