myriad SConcrete, metal and wood, the light is grey. I Smear the taste on my palate, follow all the bumps and curves.

I become the taste, I dissolve into all these triggers. No understanding just a feeling to open myself, to give. Flesh is as irrelevant as the textures.

Some said I have lost who I was, they meant they lost who they saw. They reach me sometimes and demand something I can’t be. A vanquished reality in each salt water drops, soothe by a smile, your smile.

I am not lost, not now. Each experience is a sanctuary, damp or dry, bright or dark. If I finally surrender it is to life, how petty or grandiose it appears, ever changing.

I am the world, I almost disappear in the surroundings, but not quite. It changes me and, I so ever slightly, change it.

Will they forgive the distortions because some of me remains within hell bent realities thrown at me?

Probably not.

But it matters no more because of your smile.

3 thoughts on “POROUS

  1. `Some said I have lost who I was, they meant they lost who they saw.`

    Exquisite insight…

    …there was a meme going around a couple days ago. Or was it this morning…

    `You cannot read page 738 of my life story and claim to know who I am.`

    Liked by 2 people

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