hollow inside

I slip into the subliminal, the sensations wrapping around my limbs and lifting the light out of me. The coarse characters of the mind filter flakes onto the bed and I am awake. Here in the aftermath of falling, freedom of movement, every nerve popping candy down the sides of bliss. My mind speaks soft in dream whisper, teaching me how to let the visions sweep by, let the swollen hand of memory dance and stop stagnant on my pillow. There are opportunities, the silent corruption of day pass away and here is the space between. The beacons stretched between my eyes and the soul map, polishing the frames, I see deep and cross the boundaries of skin. This body living within me, the air a new container to categorize and create separation. I begin to realize that it is hollow inside, rainbows pulsing weight against the inside of my face and I culminate a new fate. The spectrum spice of my insides, the outer falling away, discarded for the night lessons in being. I am learning how the creative tensions bead out throught my fingertips and water down my eyes. My mind is a world of discussion and the borderlands of speech become my entrance into beginnings. Cosmo flecks of light, I am learning about the darkness as well, the diving bells of facing picture after picture, the stories that perform in pictograph formation release me. Shrinking out of my ideas, the slippery sights confuse me and dilude me but there is clarity, an objectivity that includes me. I am faced with my roles, the bending fabric of identity that portions me off into a layer cake human. Distant stars pull me in and nuture a softness, the relations to relating and how quickly these fall away. The clothing of the day, dead weight when I am pausing in the fields of reflection and looking back on my collections.