August 2016

A Common Theme

I am a newborn kneading with desperate gums in the crook of your arms, laying knee to chest.

Raw and pulling back from the touch of light.

You are patient, periodically encouraging.

I do things backwards.

I smell like blood and sea water.

You take me in and remind me it is human.

There are accidental fastings. I do remember to wish well the swirling particles of dead skin.

You are patient, periodically encouraging.

I feel both the happiest and most helpless I have ever been.

I wonder if this is the freedom I have been looking for.

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