I fell into the sweet well of scent-absorbing.
my nostrils are gasping as if longing is approach.
I’m yearning for the satisfy
to fill me as if it were my breath.
wanting a mind-clutch
as a hand-fill of forthcoming images,
just to be embraced by a surround,
lifting me, face-up into fullness.
where is the romance of heartbeats I can feel,
the fragrance of beach beneath, nestling my toes
and not a sandpaper rebuffing me with foreign touch?
I am a melody-note short of a complete thought.
there is an intimacy of rudeness in the near air
as if my immediate dreams were discovered
to be made of wet cardboard, face-touching me.
free-fall is fast approaching,
but not wanting to look down at my sense of things.
I am in need of wings and uplift
as a verbal response within.
this well of worth is miles away from my trust.
foreign is the hand-me-downs that I realize as me.
I am in a standstill clutter of utterances.
nothing completes me.
as if I had something to say,
self dialogue looks back at me
from a stare down with the mirror of now.
I am an unfinished dream,
fast approaching into wakefulness.
what else is there of existence for me to say?
I am still feeling short of breath
while others around me are feeling tall.
not all of God’s children gaze back at me
as pleasant memories in a surround that is comforting.
wake me up with the essence of wellbeing
as if I was just baptized into assurance . . .
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