Don't wake us up when tomorrow arrives, we'd rather be dreamers

jueves, 26 de febrero de 2015

5 in the morning (and the cogs keep on turning)

Washed the dishes
dryed them
stored them

Ate one time
two times
three times

Wrote one word
two paragraphs
three pages

Peed repeatedly
brushed my teeth throughoutly
and organised my notebooks

But I still cannot face
the eternal succession of tomorrows
that come regardless of rest

I may have just learnt 
to pay no mind 
-mine is a cheap one,
in the aftermath.

I am learning to build myself with gentle hands

It is not easy
to strip this shame
out of my body,
each tear discovering
raw meat, fragile
and vulnerable

It has rooted itself so deeply
under my skin
that I'm no longer sure
which of it is mine
and which is the foreign body
that is rotting my insides

I take the dripping pieces in my hand
and observe them,
scrutinize them,
as I take them off of myself

Which of those ought to be thrown away?
Which of those make me myself
and are better off if they stay?