Image in my mind


The image that I have in my mind right now is of a hand reaching from deep down inside of me, from somewhere inside my core, beyond my sternum, beyond even the physical limits of my body and coming upwards and outwards through my throat, outwards and upwards from my face and reaching......just reaching. It seems to want to stretch out from the sinewy nodule that it has been living in and turn my entire being inside out.

I couldn't find picture to portray this through a Google image search.



I have a very raw layer of emotion misting up on my skin - it is unsure whether it wants to be sweated out, or cried out, or just examined and held. The palpitations in my heart haven't stopped since I noticed them yesterday, within about an hour of getting to work. True to form, I decided they had nothing to do with me. The pounding on my ribcage, the thrusting upwards on my lungs, the twitching underneath my collarbone...no, not mine. Today, I laid a painted circle, a bit of wearable art, upon the point where my heart drills its way outward. It's a heavier necklace than I like to wear, but the pressure on my skin is soothing - I feel as though I can start to contain the twitching.

My eye -- all week, I have felt as though it has been trying to jump out of its socket. It has grown tired from seeing beyond what is seen, and it has grown tired of supporting the weight of my soul. The eyes are the window to the soul, yes they are, but my right eye has begged me to turn the blinds down - has rolled on its knees for the opportunity to turn inward, to see my inner realm rather than the outer whats and whatnots of reality.

My skin cannot hold me anymore.

As nails arming,
hammering,
drilling,
cutting,
sharpening.

a hole through my chest...

the hand inside of me, the hand of my soul is begging to come out. It takes gasps on to my ankles and takes them along -- pushing, pulling, thrusting outwards. A celestial body is spinning and churning and stewing inside of me, waiting for  my to open wide enough to let it out.

I f..e..e...l...t...ired

I feel.....vulnerable

I
f  E
e
L   Fra...g

m Ented....


My legs are ready to take that epic walk on their own - they are pushing me out of my chair, into the illustrious isolation of The City. I want to get lost, I want to restore my thoughts with the energy of my footsteps - I need that time for the characters in the stories that live in my head to come alive again, to be tangible enough to grasp through a pen, to bleed onto a page. I want to be able to take the energy that seeps from the palms of my hands and roll it around, stretch it, condense it, caress it, hold it, hug it, run with it...My creative spirit is beating so fast, so hard, so sad, so strong, so weak, so vulnerable, so fragile, so delicious...It wants

.....outwards and upwards...

Let me, jut let me tend to it. Oh...it has so much to bring forth.

Yeah...

What a wonderful opportunity for you to be with someone who has so much healing to give to the world, so much good to spread and share and write about. So, why won't you take it? So, why do you scream at me? Why do you spew your anger from the day into my open face? Why do I regret my vulnerability when I am with you? Why do I feel guilty for...feeling...when you get so closed? Why do you make me swallow my tears...?

Why...do I have so many "why?"s

Really, it's not your fault.
Really, it's not my fault
Really, it's not anyone's fault.

But, let's talk about it, okay?

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