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Part I : Inside It 

No more words.

I died when I let her inside. Perhaps some spirits don’t know that the human body can only hold so much of a soul- I am sure she did not mean to kill me but I would not have stopped her if she did. 

I will not want to return back to Earth. Inside her satin skin , I feel the fresh, fragrant  smell of my death.  Death smells like sweet dew after the rain, subtly laced with electric traces, that illuminate my sight.  I knew death through sleep but when I walked into its onyx  flesh, I did not know that I would feel the ringing fire of its love, consuming everything I know; making me a dolly at heaven’s gate. 

I thought I could make them love me, but I used fear like ice and it knew fear when it met me in time.

Earth is rotten and I can not be separated from the trash. 

I moved further into the darkness, its shape configuring into my eyes, contorting to create new spheres of starless light, as I turned my body into its growing need, I could see my reflection turning away from me. 

4 replies on “Part I : Inside It ”

The whole piece is without fault, but I like this line: “I thought I could make them love me, but I used fear like ice and it knew fear when it met me in time.” It’s literally raining sheets of ice outside my window this very moment… so the line feels timely.
And then this: “Earth is rotten and I can not be separated from the trash” only makes me think how compost makes worms makes for good soil makes for food… and how earth is not a dead star… yet
and now I will
reflect…
❤︎🙌🏻

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You being a poet on the planet does the same for me. I could gush about your born-talent. It would be mushy tho. Thank you for being the whole garden… the forest… with your words and portraits… thank you for keeping the world in orbit, spinning on its axis… while you explore stars… ❤︎ This rotten earth is lucky to have you.

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This message has been the music playing in my heart and breath. Thank you for appreciating, reading and communicating with me. As precious as space. Your eyes, ears, heart and reflections are precious, they remind me of things that can never be said but will never be forgotten. Thank you.

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