Monday, 12 February 2018

Spiders and other things.

I think about spiders 
my house is home 
to so many now that when we smoke a joint
out back V doesn’t wanna sit under the decking roof
‘too infested, they might fall on me,’ she says (she’s been dreaming
about spiders
on her)
and I guess that’s a valid concern, but who am I
to tell them to leave / we’ll just stay out
of their way
for now

In the grey light of my morning room I’m
distinctly not-yet anxious. I wake up further
to enjoy this moment. I think about my friends,
I think about all our very different childhoods
that we didn’t spend together

I think about the stars
how I want to know more
I think about P playing guitar in her room (such pureness!)
and I think about myself the other night
sleeping on that top bunk 
in some kinda mortal peril
spinning out on acid, thinking all the bad things
thoughts carry such weight, sometimes

On the train to the gig I think about a call I had
a middle aged man celebrating one year without self-harming
I could have cried through the phone, heartbroken with joy.
Random tethers of kind connection
pull me closer to the earth.
I think about all the pieces of you I carry
around with me (in my head) and the process
I have to go through, of letting go

I think about my new psych, how calm she seemed and how
that enraged me at first (for some reason) – made me interrogate
my own resentment
of calm people, weird glitch 

I think about E and her words
that tumble out so raw, and my own
that must jump hurdles to be born from my internal voice
the effort alone stifling
the need

I think about
Jupiter. Big mama of expansion 
I think about dreams 
I think about you and your child self
I could cry out, from tenderness
I could call you and cry, for an hour
I think about your pain, and everyone’s

The lessons in this haven’t yet presented themselves
I’m still searching for the meaning
but I think I’m onto something – something about love
and fear, crippling
and the constant trying
to be alright

and like a baby I just want to be held, and like a mother
I just want to wipe your snotty nose clean on my sleeve
and kiss your forehead when you go to sleep.
I think about what you might be doing today
while the cogs of trauma whir into function

face of laughter, grinning through the elements
I could fall to my knees from tenderness
it's the resilience against all these impossible odds

I try not to think too hard
about whether you've thought about me

I think about gratitude and awe
and all of us like siblings
waking up slowly across different

No comments:

Post a Comment