poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.
amongst strangers,there is skin on bodies shared in crowds,to touch is to make calm, to respirate, to share,with fragrant movement,wrapped within armpit and embrace,tracing fingers upon spine,with an army of women,who uplift and hold hips,the collide of youth,searching mindlessly for grounding.
consulting her in my dreams is what I do to keep respite,chit chatter in my ear. like the drumming of samba in hot desert day,the physicalities of her absence is too out of reach,an oasis,way too out of the realm of my network, brain cannot fathom, cannot verbalise, or formalulate sentence,understanding , a paradox,but now […]