once life has finished with me and my many parts,
it will turn me back into the mush of matter, dissolve me back into the dissolution of evolution and i will float. i will flip and fold back into the folds of time i will absorb and absolve my absolution into an absolute zero. i will look through the cracks in time and space and fit my nubs of fingers and toes through the betweens and the belows. i will bellow to the stars and all our mothers and fathers cackling through the void- HONEY I’M HOME. The sun will be made of honey and decadence and life will dance out streams of sentimentality. my prayers will form a great orb about me and i will orbit myself with all my withouts and i will finally forget the need to remember anything (especially my name). then all i at once i will know nothing and feel everything.
there’s no way for me to explain this. for me to speak my story when my language is not even human. i speak to the stars, i shriek to the sounds of streams billowing. my spine is made out of tree bark and my methodology is more math than mayhem, more chaos than creation, more moreness than lessness and no one knows what it feels like to stand and feel your body in 12 places at once. no one knows what it means to gasp a lung full of air and feel each and every one of your cells gutter out at the same moment.
so what can i tell you? what do i have to say? what do i have to say seems to be the thing i’ve been asking myself for the whole of my life. i have to say feel the world. don’t be afraid to feel every slicing, splicing, cocked head, chaos contorted moment of creation. i have to say go. run to the edge of visible light, turn back around and stand in the shadow of your former life. i have to say get inside the microscopic taste of the tongue of the sky and look over yourself from a hawk’s beak with a talon clutching the one last thread of yourself you can call your own. stop. stop listening to the posters plastered on Elementary school walls about punctuation rules and poetic fools. stop trying to rhyme every beautiful thought with the letter no. stop capitalizing on capitalism and dotting your t’s. i’m not saying break the rules, i’m not saying bang your head, i’m saying splice your head open and let the resounding shouts of light all around you seep through the cracks in your skull. i’m saying leave behind all remnant of what you thought you thought you wanted to think because someone told you it would lead you to eventually (with enough proof-reading, rewriting, cement block tied to your feet, editing, editing, re-editing) maybe getting you an A. or a B. or a letter or a number or a space in line to sit and wait through your life while the ocean, meanwhile, gurgles all the answers right under your feet. (6 million years ago, mind you, but still under your feet.)
say yes. say yes to the universe. yes to the glow of lights that flicker through your skin. yes to your path, in your way, in your time for whatever reason your rhyme meets your rhythm. say yes to learning, no to forcing your head into the 8×10 box of a textbook. say yes to stretching, reaching, pushing back and forth out of the gutter of your spine, out of the grime of your gut, out of the spleen of your soul. say yes to being on the edge and pushing forward. say yes to hope, to bliss, to love and to kicking the shit out of anything that stands between you and the glory of being fully alive. i have to say, come alive. come awake. come aware. come and become. come and listen to yourself. come and feel the feeling of feeling the universe. come and be a human. come and be a star. come and be a part of the stardust you can no longer hear, but if you stand close enough to your shadow, you can almost feel the remnant of. dusty and patchwork and spluttering out in little pieces, but that one breath is enough to live your whole life on. come be so much more than you ever imagined.
to love to love to limitlessness and all the spaces in between the between and the between. to words that mean nothing and everything and all things in between. to life.