june 8th

june 8th, 2020

words and lightning and women. they made a vixen out of you. how curvaceous is my writing. how sweeping are my steps. i stretch my inner thighs every day. they make me do it. they’re training me for the day. it’s not exhausting but it requires resounding moments of pause, to be nothing. to be idle. to have zero, to become it. whole. empty is perception. perhaps to be empty you must be whole. & i’ve been feeling like that these days. when i loosen my mind’s grip and disconnect. i find emptiness - quick. i would say it’s zoning out but it feels like zoning in. my pen isn’t even moving I am just the pen. it’s a full extension of me and i, of it. like a robot. like a flesh-wielding robot. i bought coconut oil and it has made my hair and skin so soft. like a baby. like a rebirth. i don’t know what to say anymore but it feels important that I’m here to show up. to give my face. to be accountable for the vehicle that has steered me into freedom and will take me into flight. goodnight my loves, even though it is mourning. 

x