Bag Of Bones

moon 08/01/2020

I looked at the moon and it wasn't real. I took off my shoes and breathed and closed my eyes and tried to feel like I was supposed to be plastered inside my skin. My soul was clambering to get away, bumping against its shell like a balloon against the ceiling. I tried to cry because I felt so full and so empty at the same time. Once again I am expanding, but the sharpness, the rawness inside me can only push agaisnt its cage. Why do we have bodies? I wanted to follow the moon, it's eye so bright it blinded mine. I wanted to walk forever in the cool soft air and the gentle darkness. I imagined my hand inside someone else's, happy that I was alone to imagine it without another person to push against my thoughts like the wrong side of a magnet. I would have followed the moon tonight, content to walk forever and remain always in the same night, under the same prisitne disk of light, for all eternity. I would never have gotten tired. I would have walked on and on and on and on and on and on and the repetition and the motion would consume and comfort me. I want to show everyone the raw things inside of me, but what if those things are not enough? They are not the shining, shredding things that I imagine they are. They are powerless and plastic. But I want them to consume me and everyone else and I want to be something that doesn't belong on earth. My soul is thudding against the inside of my chest, but I don't know how to let it out and live.