slippery suns of balance

morning maps creeks down my face, a blur of sleep sitting comfortable over the stable of my eye. i am shaking loops of color down the sunlight smeared walls, reminding myself, i am alive. to breath and mark the shallow dips of my shoulder blades with the sipping heartbeat of possibilities. i hold in my clasping grasping palm, a smile. faxed onto the layout of my face, a shining incongruity. i am giving away the shellfish, the warrants of arrest, the slippery suns of balance that waive my responsibility. taking on anew, the strawberry que, the dancing frost of the rain on our heads. our bumbling feet smashing interrupted puddles, drinking up the indigo forests painted on the side of blank faced houses. my dress glued to corners, outlining my limits, focused on symmetry and parallel limbs. in this sliver of moment, i am here. all presents and no squinting eyes of forgetting. i am all the handful bunches, you grab at my essence, always requesting to be seen and heard through lipveils. our edible paragraphs turning into essays of quantified feeling, expressing our pixellated lives on trim white pages. i listen because i care. the landscape of skin above your concerned mouth whispers a small soft vowel. the tip of a unannouced wave building trauma as it approaches unknown shores. you are a surprise even to yourself. your roots tangling with the drove of knots that rides my feet to every destination. pulling down and pushing up springing wells of water, the oddest girl you’ve ever met. kissing the sky with closed eyes.