chasing neverland.

I'm running out of ways to sanitize this. There is no safety in letting someone in. Hearts cannot run background checks on every new soul it encounters. It's not humanly possible.

Familiarity demands time, but too much of it has been donated to the wrong people. There's no room left for a clean slate. I look at you and remain numb to all feeling.

Take me as I am— complete with bruises, a to-go bag, and enough cynicism for you to fill in the blanks of what has taken place. I am too exhausted to filter through arbitrary small talk, too spread-thin to hide a tainted history that already bursts through my seams.

Charulata (1964)

That was the last sunrise I ever saw. Perhaps the kindest thing the dark gift has given me. // It was the last time I saw my brother. It was the last time I saw the sun. It was the only time I ever felt free.

If you think you don’t have one, get one. To get one, be sincere.

Learn sincerity of intent by letting

life enter because you’re helpless, really,

to do otherwise.

Even as you try escaping, let it take you

and tear you open

like a letter sent

like a sentence inside

you’ve waited for all your life

though you’ve committed nothing.

Let it send you up.

Let it break you, heart.

Broken-heartedness is the beginning

of all real reception.

The ear of humility hears beyond the gates.

See the gates opening.

Feel your hands going akimbo on your hips,

your mouth opening like a womb

giving birth to your voice for the first time.

Go singing whirling into the glory

of being ecstatically simple.

Write the poem.