Aletheia Gone
my personalities splayed out like water between my fingers the tighter that i tried to hold them together down low.
shattered glass reflecting each other's faces the slipped carelessly to the ground.
only now do I try to get them back to pull them together into a whole puddle that might fill a bowl.
the laughing sad sobbing of a throat that doesn't know if it wants to go up or down and the painful less-ness of crushing
nothing between fingers. the ground soaks me up, the air dissipates and the water makes me featureless.
out here i am shape and form unfilled working harder and harder without a goal.
what happened to my questioning self? did I slip out first? poked the holes and lead the others through?
they leave me with a thirst to drink the ocean salt and for being-in-the-world
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