BLURRY BODIES

A complex blur
Bodies passing by
Bumping into
One another
Shades of skin
A collection of color
Attire you chose
To drape upon yourself
How to decorate
And commemorate
Oneself
How do you choose which
People you slow down for
Stop, interrupt your pace
Exchange eyes
Exchange words
Exchange ideas if you're lucky
How do you choose
Which blurry bodies
Are worth your time
 

SUNDAY

Sunday feels like a boundless exhale. My fingers are swollen, stained - I am an unapologetic mess. My mind feels like it has been submerged deep, decluttering - translating conversations with myself. I study each mark - some deliberate, most not - bleeding from one page to the next. Lines exposing where I have been. Romance forms between hues. Sunday feels like champagne on the beach - digesting the previous week, a celebration. Sunday, you’re so damn good to me.

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ABOUT THE SERIES: THE BEACH HOUSE

"THE BEACH HOUSE"

in the process || this series continues to grow

My mind slips to you
body still
spine grazing the earth
corpse pose
waves pull back
with no hesitation
and launch forward
to ascend
kissing the shoreline
and pull back again
natural rhythm
I sit on the steps
the sun warms my face
I embrace the radiance
I am the waves
here at the beach house
exclusively existing in my mind. 
  - the beach house 
 

 

The day I found myself lying in my bathtub -
Fully clothed and numb,
A violent sting
 

It hung over me
It beat the hell out of me
It fiercely clutched my insides
And threw them up against the wall
I lost my mind


My two fingers
Pressed into my wrist
A pulse
Heart palpitations
I am here
 

Some days
You could no longer tell
If it was sweat or tears
Rolling down
My cheeks
Traveling over my shoulders
Descending down my back
When I rested into
Corpse pose
I could not let my mind drive
To the depraved place
The pressure and the shame
Would bubble to the surface
 

I let my mind slip
To the beach house

Bleached, wooden staircase
Meets the sand
My sanity between
Stretch my body
Shadows
Coral sky
The sun radiating
Spotlight in the sky
Hot on my skin
 

I would listen raptly
To the collision of waves
Until I became the waves
 




It took 17 months
And one day the aching
Conclusively dripped off of me
It trickled down from my mind
And off of my body
It dissolved into the earth


From there this series was born
I lived through the process. 

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