my insides are morphed,
like droplets of sand dripped in acid,
they scatter across my veins,
lighting up different parts of me,
different quartets forming different houses,
a monopoly of emotions,
lighting up different windows,
church stained glasses,
letting in the mustard glow that sits so deep inside my pericardium,
like a Sun,
The flavour of my skin is rich,
like almonds soaked in milk overnight,
they coat me, replenish me, nourish me,
turmeric added for protection,
I protect myself now,
I,
the ruler of my own self-regulation,
I,
the creator of my identity,
I,
the one providing Safety in self,
I,
the user and watcher of my Words,
I strip away their stories,
with toothpicks,
sometimes having to burn up the old ground,
setting alight for new to grow upon,
but first, I must replenish what was lost,
get a base ground formed,
I brush the soil over with saffron,
Loading spoons with honesty and ghee,
dig them deep into the same trenches,
Drenched in date syrup,
and see if seeds will grow here,
a Place struggling to survive due to the Rotting,
In my space, now,
there is safety,
In between where I chalk the lines of my Body,
where I draw space for what is accessible,
what is tolerable, accepted,
I allow that which nourishes, not depletes,
limitless love,
not those conjoined with snake mouths,
What thrives here,
in the honey dunes of my thighs,
in the pond that is my mouth,
that has coy fish that swim up my throat,
sprouting out lotus flowers that rest in between my lips,
the songs which spill out, these paragraphs of poetry,
which match acres of land that hide in my mind,
which stretch far between teeth and gum,
written in the scripts of God,
and now for you to read,