Cut the Net Already

We are opening the container of our own answers.

The difference between god and demon is our reaction. She rings her hand-bell and taps her drum as reminder that one can bring light to even the inner most dark. Reclaim. Heal. Be free.

We are not separate and we are not made. How the space connects. How the distance disappears. My body is a bridge as the world moves through you. You have my pulse.

I draw a heart in the condensation of the bathroom window as sun blares through the final prismatic beads of January. Days lengthen a little and I try to understand my relationship to the room. A bad mood settles into my pores like a fine silt. I can't give my body what it needs so cut the net already.

Chopin is not my lover. He is my father and that is why the world tilts in a minor key. We are innocent, my love – we are. Maybe if I could have just one more chance next to the river. Maybe if I leave the light on at night a little longer.