Be You in Your Sensual Splendor

Oh God

sometimes I fake “ok”

so well

it scares me.

Im all smiles and

foreplay phrases at the table

then sitting on restaurant toilets,

spinning panicked breaths

and craving a dark watery hole

to scuttle back into.

Why couldn’t I just

be me and

be done with it?

The pressure around and within

howls me to sleep

with rhapsodies

of acting normal

in a fucked up world

which is a goddamn laugh

but still has me

chained to the lamplight

beside my bed

practicing odes

of pretending

which makes me so angry

I felt the hot breath

of the dragon inside

snort and sputter.

We are made

to be messy and

irreverently more

ourselves in each moment

during these times

of the capitalist pig

and the boar

that knocks down

the door

demanding production

and sleek slime sublime stupors

that keep us under steel-toed boots.

We can speak up.

We have the power.

Shout it out loud

and be heard by the angels and

some of us beings on earth

do crave you to be

exactly and magically

you,

in all your sensual splendor.