that’s a lot for a tiny person

​a noise in the silence and the unbearable lightness of being
i am here, with all the fears and thoughts and emotions and the wind blowing them all in my face

that’s a lot for a tiny person

a smell of roasted peppers and silence filled with noise like swishing leaves
except that they aren’t leaves; they’re people trying to knock down a door locked from the inside
trying to get in with a screwdriver and a hammer
and how do you know you made the right choice? you don’t. and you did. because all the steps that got you here are every step you took so far
this is your universe
it could be anyone’s though, but it’s not theirs


If my pain-body were a book, it would be a dictionary explaining
words like “heartbreak” “promise” “little princess” “love” because there are no dictionaries to explain them
there’s only silence and sounds in between

until you surrender: you are no longer your mind

and if it were that dictionary the gaps between the words would be coloured
by the unmanifested unwritten feelings of their “heartbreak” “promise” “little princess” “love”
you see
my pain-body is still here making itself comfortable he doesn’t mind the gaps he never did although I shout at him with silence
and splashes of yellow blue pink purple cover the pages
it is still here, unborn like a fetus
unborn forever
so I will have eventually to abort

what a relief, stillness within

I exist.