new moon, balsamic

inside of me
exist so many people
whose bodies i thought i knew
yet now, i don’t know
just who to listen to.

i am overwhelmed, by all the voices
growing gruff, sounding less patient.

there is the poet,
pouring words
at all times

the dancer,
shaking my legs as i sleep.

the counselor,
offering shoulders
and ears open
to infinite.

there is the healer,
the queen,
the teacher,
the sage,
the singer,
the mother,
the actress,
the hooper,
the dancer,
the yogi,
the artist,

the creator

above all —

the creator.

who am i choking to death
in preference
of one over the other?

who am i
in this life time

i need another one to sort it out.


(free write madness.)

This entry was published on September 4, 2013 at 11:57 am. It’s filed under creative conversation, creativity, emotions and stuff, free write, honest conversation, life, photography, poetry, rambles and writing, weird, words, writing and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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