Matted wires (ends
swiftly cut, the meltdown
paused),
a flared protest as protections
peel back, ions arc
to meet their counterparts;
signs no and yes align
in the spark
of a binary at last teased
clear from the tangle
of the past:
we are or we are not, and
we are.
How do emotion and logic combine for you?
What does it feel like to question yourself?
How do you recognize your own sanity?
Breakdowns and breakthroughs are a daily occurrence; I shouldn’t be surprised. There’s still so much more arriving to do. But fuck, the process is exhausting and painful, on top of all the other exhaustion and pain.
The idea of rewiring me (as though I were project to be completed in garages or basements, worthy of a temporary enthusiasm, but always, eventually, relegated to the corners where good intentions collect dust after the work gets too frustrating) the words themselves, have been part of this second-chance life since its beginning. It’s been a silliness, a self-deprecation, a lingering resentment, a confusion, a flashpoint.
And yet something emerged in the past few days, another set of frayed, sizzling threads gently released from another cluster of knots at the center. Or rather, I seem to have extracted which ones are mine to smooth and soothe, and set them side by side with the others, pointed in the same direction at last.