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shaking ghosts// lifelust

i.

she not busy being reborn

is busy redying

each me
I used

to be

is dead.

emotionally

inaccessible

buried

under
so many
layers

impenetrable

each me

slayed

of my

own

hand

now

I'm

constantly

shaking

ghosts.

ii.

how do I

unearth

the selves

expired

when I

am the

only one

with the

knowledge

required?

if happiness

is living

passionless,

embodying

emptiness,

why

  still

must I

come

to life?

iii.

Listen to me.

listen listen Listen LISTEN

LISTEN TO  ME!

I WANT

TO OCCUPY

SPACE.

I am eternally contained
lid sprung open gasping
lungfuls of fresh air
and longing

LONGING

to disperse

to fill

to command

to demand

SPACE.

LISTEN

TO ME!

iv.

Now where to begin?

I want an endless array of books stacked to the ceiling in shelves that tower over me. I want photographs in frames and out, collages and findings, awards on the walls. I want a very real presence of energy and artistic freedom. I WANT TO TAKE UP SPACE. I want the contents of my brain and heart and soul and self everywhere, easily accessible and primed for exploration. I want to capture that bit of magnetism in my eyes and with it build an exposé. I want to find the ones that I wish to invite inside this space I call my being. I want to learn, to dream, to cook, to grow, to emit passion and elicit engagement. I want color. I want music. I want to dance to twirl to spin to jump to leap to LET GO always effortlessly and with enthusiasm. I want vigor, fire, intensity. I want skin on my fingertips, adrenaline in my lungs. I want sexuality that isn’t insistent. I want attraction that could only be action. I want adventure. I want to wander my way around the world with the one who feels like home. I want to push my body beyond its limits, bask in that delicious strain. I want emotions like shockwaves that shake me to the core. I want unending intrigue, a thirst unquenchable. I want eye contact that pierces, deliberate and unflinching. I want rapt attention, an audience of all ears. I want to bend sound, manipulate rhythm into the perfect story. I want words and poignant pauses, conversations vast as constellations. I want dusk eternal, stillness like a bated breath. I WANT TO WANT.

Now where to begin.

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