This is my flesh, this is my blood. Eucharist in motion

I have become frightened of my own existence
It is as if I suddenly woke up from a dream, but that dream was my life.
Eating, drinking, money, clothing seems ridiculous and redundant.
aware of my own mortality, my frail skin, and blood. Knowledge
that I will die one day, unanswered questions of why was I born,
just to die, and where do I go? My dreams are more real than this
place of awakening. The inconsistencies make more sense than
the more solid, and slow changing world we live in. the maze
That I find myself in…that I placed myself in, what will I do when
I reach the end?
I have brief memories, of an existence where I am not me,
and there is none of this. It feels more like the dream state
that waking life. And in this state, Fleeting, there are people
who tell me that my life, is not real. And I am frightened.
I am frightened that what they say is true, I go into panic
when I think that there may be something so different than here.
so different from what I feel like I belong to. The panic, the overwhelming
sense of urgency, to flee and hide back in the womb.
to go back to where I belong.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Slave Song

Trapped in mundane, A search for commission A monetary slave wage that's in trade  for all the precious time that was given and freedom for the worker was forbade. In dreams, we make our own reality In dreams, we are the gods made eternal. When i am awake, the world becomes vague. and i realize my place as the slave. we work, suffer, and toil to survive The hymns of the captive prisoner's woe indoctrinated into straw man way's we give up our very rights, righteously so. paying to have poison in our stomachs, dust in my eyes,and no way to cover. human relation is misunderstood, making a war of sisters and brothers. In dreams, we make our own reality In dreams, we are the gods made eternal. When i am awake, the world becomes vague. and i realize my place as the slave. our work is insufferable to us, and we die every day in the hot sun. yet we will never revolt our masters for they stand unseen, behind the ...
Read more

Mecalito calls, i do not answer

Mescalito calls, i do not answer, I sit by the door waiting for him to come instead. Mescalito calls but i am too hurt, To hurt to heal but Not hurt enough,to answer. I sleep on my front doorstep, Bit the doorstep i sleep on does not heal, It does not condone healing. I do not wAit for resolution, Mescalito knows, mescalito knows. I do not wait for healling, instead i wait for the pain, Mescalito knows, I wait at my doorstep, waaiting for the pain, And mescalito waits. I drink another beer, Mescalito knows my grief. I sip until they show themselves, But mescalito is crying. Im sleeping in the cold, Like i did before, Mescalito was with me in my pain, Im sipping on the door of my appartment, But mescalito already sat down with me. I crack open another beer, Mescalito knows, Mescalito is cryimg, I stumble through the door with my mind, Mescalito sleeps beside me in agony. I ran all the way home by not trying to feel anything, Mescalito knows, But mescalito doesn't speak, I fall ...
Read more

Sewing Shut The Unfolding Blossom

Each Dream comes Like a whisper in the night, Arriving like a ghost creeping through my sleep, Becoming my body. Each Dream is more beautiful than the dream before My lovers come into my dreams and present their hearts. Each new heart is sewn upon my own, Stitched in sleep as we lie entangled. When I dream, I dream of love and my heart grows Like a tumor, endlessly emerging in silence. An unfolding blossom I drape it over my body I let it consume me, I let it cover me I let it keep me whole and sew it shut to sleep between the petals of the dream.
Read more