The hands push forward and down
Pushing through fields of words
Through fields of who I think I am and who I am not.
Treading waves of time
An attempt at an immortal "Ungh."
A soft plop that is a child of mine
Slipping from between me
For you
Some creation of mine
That is also me
That can be yours
But I need to keep it safe,
Keep it locked between the folds of
Who I am
Who I want to be
That's not me
That's between us
Secrets that are intimately yours, mine, ours
That they validate
They stamp with approval
That we don't need
And that we do need.
A labor of my guts, my womb,
My hands and my intellect.
A child that cries into your arms
That leaps from me
While clawing it's way through me
Into me
From me
Exquisitely me
Delicious and bile
And ephemerally heavy
Without form
Without function
Without your approval
With your approval please
I yearn for you to embrace it
To embrace me.
To share with you is to understand
Myself.
To show you the dreams of a child
Alone in her closet
With her fears
Her mistrust
To block out the noise
To find that place within that feels solid
That doesn't exist
But has a voice
That asks for you to hear
What you can't hear
What you can't see
What you can't feel
But leaves its impression on your hands
Heavy with guilt, love, the ecstasy of finding that inner place.
