By: - Mar 06, 2022


At the center of my scalp
(My feelers being
Equidistant to ozone
And my inward cavity
Of consciousness),

My hair parts,
And like these lines,
I split in two.

My knowing girlhood brings
Me in and out of inspiration,
Of waking and sleeping.

Dreaming makes me truer
As I journey into the latest
Act of a soul at the threshold
Of lore and awakening.

Amuse your spirit. Fill it.
Sleep with an attachment to
Each self-displacement, you are susceptible to that memory.
Find your imaginings
Somewhere there. That is the young prerogative
We forfeit for logic.