Experimental growth

Once Upon a time there were two. 

Both blossomed in oxygen ballooning themselves like Flowers cleansing the air. 

Then they bridled in brown, and she kept all their seeds, dry corpses hidden in a box along with beads of negative space. 

She was always looking ahead. Scattering unfinished bodies all around her.

surrounded in loose ties. 

Meanwhile her teeth kept shattering in her dreams. 

Corners cracking, roots falling out and waking with a mouthful of pain and advice from a Greek: “stop running”

“I’m not running” she tried to persuade her lungs. 

But she knew it meant there was pressure: 

words clenched in her throat with stubborn stones. 

where would she have to scratch to eventually bleed in white?

Eggplant white. Decolorized purple.

Her tears and fears made her lover buy her a garden 

and with those lines she saw her hands again because she used them. 

And there was tribalness between her paths. 

Tribalness we all bear within us. 

The tribe of color and Trinity she had forgotten.

and a desire to become the garden herself flushed her. 

“Surely this will soften my bones” she thought “I will become a disciple of life again”

because most growing takes place underground.

and the songs of Alzheimer's had already played. 

but snake tongues held her back

ingested chemicals brewing storms of misperception within her.

we're not here to give her pity 

we may forgive because we claim to understand 

but actually, her show is about a desperate urge to listen 

to passively decay 

to befriend that coral-bleaching Mr. Death 

trap the scent of fallen trees for her to be able to give something back

an oil of promise, 

a Golden syrup of forest smells soothing the sounds of tranquility.

and the symbols she knows will stay right behind her eyes waiting to be conceived 

have those hormones inhibited all her births? 

Or will she give light to a dancing star? 

and feed the summer and its cannibals?