Exposing oneself must make for the true bravery… It has to be.
The marrow that is incognito further than our bones,
and our bones held in with
layers and liquid.
I think of being in this living body probably too much;
How interesting we build walls longer and ever so sky rocketing than the Great Wall of China, as much as the titanium armor, lathered with iron methods embedded in behavior, having moments believed we’re safe, facing strangers without honesty or the truth…
“Hello? I feel a flame might’ve smudged inside.”
humiliation of pain, even vulnerability.
As if we were taught we’re meant to be indestructible, When were delicate .
All I ever hear is infants crying for milk.
How interesting we illustrate bouncing, ciphered – gravities. All whirling around ourselves, cognate to PB&J sandwiches zip locked in plastic bags, passed around to dirty kids at Hippie Hill.
Brown bag specials from original childhood friends.. or lack of,
to work associates.. or the ones you discovered are fascinating,
to family members struggling,
to acquaintances you keep bumping into,
to buddies you must interact daily.
This living body, and bravery..
Majority I take in a-muddle, pictured like a Kansas storm.
flounder in debris to glue calls of any spine, the support through trouble.
Mirrored to the laceration of fifteen year old wrists;
draining out daisies,
all because repulse invitations to express.
Oh, god for the love of the pulse line, invite to express!
You have to.. be..
The Penny Lanes Compendium 