Head

On the day the great wave came, the end of the earth, me, the universe filled with my heart. On the day of the rapture, a million storms arose and spread themselves like thirsty leviathans upon this planet. My little room, memories in shriveled boxes. Panting, I thought, “nobody understands a thing of this place. “

Then, the seal was broke and the fetus wrapped in serpent began to twist inside its mother. We need to get out, we need to leave. Sharpen the star and cut the cord. But on that day, again and again I was afraid. Every eye saw me, the blind sorcery of myself. Inside this womb, squirming and plucking at the thing that was growing.

The summer. The book i didn’t finish. The purchase of bullets. Forests on fire. Deep smoky skies. My hands on the wheel. A past far away. A moment of hope. Words that break hearts. Silence that drains. Open wounds. Thrashing waters. My velvet stomach.

“Does anyone hear the dragon?” (I called from the tube)

For forty godless days and nights I churned inside her raging body. To get out, “another day is coming” He rides on clouds in a chariot made of bone dust. He lifts the waters back into him.
And from below I heard the words, ” Stop throwing stones at the sea.” Supine woman made of hills and valleys, opened into me. Converging on that day, another cross to bare.

Blood drips from a red sun. Because there was no other way to part these black clouds. Cradle me, a star in my forehead, wave after wave I die into a night raining fire. This earth will end, this world will pass. Storm after storm, electric pulses. Pound the nail into the coffin that nobody sees. It’s all in your head, all your head. Head. Sharada Devi

3 thoughts on “Head”

  1. One time I made a painting of a hero. Dark blue, heavy shoulders. It was an accident. But I put red rain because that is what it felt like- the stakes. If we’re not moving through life and death, then we’re just painting.

    Moving through waves, heavy and parting. Feeling that surrounds, intimate and close enough to take… everything.
    I fell asleep again, wondering what an astral body feels like. I woke up again, probably as mine was leaving, and it was a shock. Electricity.

    I don’t know… the whole world gets taken and we don’t remember. Our bodies, dead, only awakened by ourselves, or electricity moving through. So I want to let it go; let my heart feel it move through, without being jolted. Back to this hard place.

    I will create, dream it through, back to before all this.. wreckage… and leave the scene. Walking in the acid rain of my head, until my dead body is dissolved. Released. Mercury. Cloud. Light. You. The only thing left to hold. Me)
    Thank you, Sharada Devi, hero.🌊🌫☀️🌟

  2. KNOCK on the door.

    Don’t answer it.

    Leave me alone.

    I was never here.

    Let go of tomorrow.

    I will not be there.

    Sitting, and sitting and sitting…stillness wracked with chaos and confusion.
    Nowhere to go but in my head. Get the F out! Get OUT! So tired of wanting. Spit on wanting! Turning my mind, my head, inside out. Brains, rushing through thoughts exposed. Cold, dry, empty. Go back to nothing. Turn around and go back in. Hybernating.

    It’s still too hot. Heart pounding. Each call and and accident seem to cry for attention. No! The ties have been severed. No longer bound. There is NO going back. Tired of being the ONLY one. This distance was created by your absence during my very presence. It’s been 3,030 days and now that I am gone you beg for it. Turn elsewhere.

    Sitting, and sitting and sitting…stillness wracked with chaos and confusion.
    Nowhere to go but in my head. Get the F out! Get OUT! So tired of wanting. Spit on wanting! Turning my mind, my head, inside out. Brains, rushing through thoughts exposed. Cold, dry, empty. Go back to nothing. Turn around and go back in. Hybernating.

    KNOCK on the door.

    Don’t answer it.

    Leave me alone.

    I was never here.

    Let go of tomorrow.

    I will not be there.

    I will not keep repeating this.
    the only repetition will be this breath…this breath…only this breath…
    filled with meaning…when I can find it, and hold on to it…..Mother help me.

    Truly.

    THE END.

  3. Thought planted, dragon seed freed,
    humming visions, heard, it was.
    In the asking for a new language
    was it by need or was it for love
    wrought of dream or mother tongue embedded,
    like star shards, it will not go away
    ending every evening, beginning everyday
    impression of abalone blue- green fluorescence
    diamonds and gold initiated this sound struck presence
    hope and regret tangled up in the colors of stones cast out to sea
    incased in a sheen of titanium, iridium and me
    when you get stuck in the middle, it gets so hard to flee.
    i am howling. do you hear me?
    cursed or blessed, i cannot guess.
    Though i am not fluent it sings just the same,
    another day’s day will name it’s true name.

    Embryonic fluid has the power to kill the will or instill, but the thrill – of expulsion, can wreak a life time of repulsion. mother and child doomed to reconcile or exist in a whirl of constant denial.
    …..
    The dragon language, to be feared or revered, i do not know.
    Friend or foe. i have no clue.
    Fire it breathes and wings it does show
    is it all in my head?
    this sound that has taken precedence
    this celestial beehive that sings of aurora
    a reason to be or a flight to survive
    even without bullets, wishful cats still have 9 lives

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