I hope you see me like this, too.

There seems to be more to experience and less to say these days. I've been sleeping well and calling my sister. Two telltale signs of goodness in my life. There's been pozole and kissing, too. 

At the same time every evening, the crows on my street scream for exactly one hour in unison. Do you know how much better we'd all feel if we allowed ourselves the same conjoined release? Sometimes I long to join them. Today in particular. The last two days were sunshine, joy, and lipstick. Today feels like the part of winter where you watch the clock and dream of swimming naked. Yearning like a lion with fresh meat on a platter outside the cage.

I went out dancing the other night and I felt like a wild animal. Touching the floor, clawing at the air, screaming the lyrics. It didn't matter that I had a life outside of the dancefloor. Really it never does. Both inside and out of my dreams I've been feeling very primitive. I never used to pay attention to my instincts in the way I have these last few months. Just how much of being a proper citizen is abiding by rules and how much of that is laying like bricks on my crazy free bird heart? I want to be good but I more than that, I need to be free. 

When I close my eyes and imagine myself- there's a horse running through a desert. It's fast, phantom-like, and with love in it's eyes. I hope you see me like this, too. 

Loving would be pitifully easy absent of a brain.

I'd be so brave unaccompanied by a mind. 

A dusty candle ignites upstairs and I countlessly make the trek to arrive

inhale

and do away with the fire. 

I had a dream that I screamed, lungs full of passion and lethargy. 

In that liminal happening

Boiled down to a wild animal, wounded and brave.

Why can't I scream in waking life?

Do I secretly yearn to?

Are the trees waiting?

Living has been a constant process of unclenching. 

Can I be a love that just is? 

Is a scream brewing?

Ready

 

Today was a day in my young life.

Today I felt exhausted. I woke up next to someone very very good. We rubbed our cheeks together and I forgot about the nightmare I had. The bus ride home was hazy and two men on the street hit on me. 

I wore tighter pants than I normally wear. For a large part of my day, I thought about my cat and wondered whether or not he feels sad while I am away. Am I old enough to be caring for something so alive?

I am so alive and I care for myself relentlessly but sometimes I feel like a cat inside an empty house. Wondering when someone will stop in and caress me.

Today I biked home in the dark. My legs told me they hated me and that it would have been more enjoyable to bus home. I could have sat in the very back. I could have watched everyone's backs move in and out, up and down, breathing without thinking. Automatic living. Are they tired, too? I think everyone I have ever seen on a bus looks tired. 

Everyone is so alive and it's freaking me out. I am so alive and it's freaking me out. 

I am getting looked at with love again and it's turning me into water. 

Today I wondered if I am a snail or a slug. At first I thought snail because I have the ability to revert deep into a shell, deep within myself, and take stock of all the ever internal happenings. I realized after more thinking that I am a slug. 

I'm meant to be in this world naked. Vulnerable. Ready.