What is this downward tingle

drifting through bone & muscle?

Thinking of feeling better;

ash blankets fire,

turning skin to leather.

“I think I know,

I think I am.”

Truly: the body knows

to continue building & reinforcing every dawn.

“Then…what to do when feeling this fearful tingle,

a hotspot of discomfort?”

Allow flames to subside before breathing in life,

regrowing sensations guided to light.

Oh, the woes

of the exhaustive search

accelerating the blackened hearse.

Stumbling, hurting, drowning in tears

from a drought-stricken well.

Suffocating in fear —

“Scan it again, make It more clear.”

No thanks, prefer imageless steers

driven by enlightening sensations: here now.

Societal estimations

masquerade as explanations.

Dancing around Truth.

Aching conflagrations

stave sleep for nations.

Bloodbaths starting anew,

spread cruelty

as explosive fear from Us to Whos.

Neverending war,

churning through soreness;

feeding competing greed

of theoretical need.

Darkness: “Burn the field before the farmer plants the first seed.”

Gradually graying walls lined with unbloomed flowers,

gracefully depressing paces through.

Darkening world;

walking inside a bottled haste.

No light at the end of this descending tunnel.

Water wakes tired senses;

deflecting, reflecting, doing bests against inspecting.

Havoc of the Doubtful Empires.

Aching without breaking;

lifting stompful quakings.

Will not succumb to realistic thoughts;

diverting energy towards balance in focus.

Focusing on nightmares & dreams

outletting onto ink streams

instead of tearing the self apart at the seams.

Today delivered grey-blue skies,

cooling stresses by windblown sighs.

Gracefully uplifting, slowing breath;

casting down optical trickles together.

Alleviating urgencies fired

to escape & reflect from a safe distance

after soaring higher.

Darkened, dripping cottonballs float across the sky;

bubble-wall of blue surrounding above.

Crossleggedly sitting railside,

bicycling was tiring;

temporarily resting to comfortably reenergize.

Giving you the bare

in exchange for stresses to bear;

meditating on the spirit rings & instrumental wings.

“What do you see?

Tell me in a hurry,

for the not-thought-enoughs are blurring.”

Is It real or fake?

Taking as “giving”,

failures then procreate.

Honey tastes like cough syrup

when jaws clench to block the duct.

Freezing inside so-called “home”,

knowing to follow-up winded blows.

Close the eyes,

resist the fear of the Dark;

feel fires swoon & sway

while releasing the pent dismay.

“Bottlerockets” — tears spew out.

Rinse & repeat the healing bouts.

World may be against

but the spirits are aligned.

Kisses on the forehead

Father truly loved

despite demons riding high.

He was in Dad’s true self

as He is in me;

I am of all

and all are one.

Healer of senses,

Deliverer of truth:

how tragic,

the years of unknowing.