still not better yet, but almost. the sickness from hell. moving all through this body to probably give me the solitude i need. craving solitude because i need to find my soul in all the external chaos that is causing mammoth emotional flare ups and everybody with their sense of right and wrong on blast. the energy hurts real fast like a skid mark paper cut that you unconsciously make happen cause you were too busy ranting and raving and hurting and doing and scathing and beating and trying. i can’t partake. i pulled myself out like no carrots on a plate. softness and aloneness to find myself in all of this. my connection to the divine, my purpose, my role, my ability to show up as love. the sky is the most beautiful shade of violet outside during my first dawn back in seattle. been sneezing and blowing my nose all night and i think it’s this apartment cause i wasn’t doing it till i got inside. the electric heat? the calling for home. dreamed about it last night. i look up at the sky after typing this sentence and the violet is replaced by powder blue. sky, you are playing with me, aren’t you? i am molting and melting down. a mess. i don’t want to be around anybody. i need to rest. my energy feels shrunken. i am waiting for catharsis, for that a-ha, for the balloon to filled up back with air, for the mind to not be focused on despair, for the heart to feel love as joy, for the snow to melt from the iris of my eyes, for the landing of my soul into the present, for the metabolization of all that is and my humanity within it as a collective sphere of consciousness. do you ever wish you could turn yourself into a blade of grass? i want to be a donkey ass. i said that only to rhyme. sometimes i get caught up in the syntax when i write and this is how the unconscious unfurls, through the beat, through the sound, through the palpable energy and this is what i wonder break down of logical sentence structure into amfhtidghkngfognfokgnfgfkvn the steps to the unconscious which do not make sense like words appear as letters and strings that lead upward to where the letters make words and meaning-making takes precedence but down here there is not a president. down here there is a man and woman as shadow and they sit in thrones cause of loyalty to the old kingdom so they get up and smash the thrones and dive back into the sea from whence they came. i miss the sea. i miss all sorts of things. i am melting, molting. the world is melting and molting. the sky is melting and molting. we are in the middle of this intense human soup alchemy.