23 Emotions: Exulansis

The edges start off blurred,
an inauspicious beginning,
but those who were there, marked the moment.

Words cannot hold the truth,
though the experience did,
at least for some (I  believe).

The flatness of language to convey,
sharp contrast to the roundness of reality,
that curvaceous form of being.

Pale powder between my fingertips.
all around a vibrant monochrome,
enveloping us into unity.

But these words mean nothing,
to (aside from that band of few) 

you, who were not there.

exulansis

n. the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it—whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness—which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.

23 Emotions: Onism

a whirring tick,
like an overheated heart. 

this, a fluttering, falling noise,
and sensation.

next destination...
(too many choices).

a leap that twists,
catlike, in midair. 

a heart divided too,
arms reaching in all direction.

i stand here, the hauptbahnhof of my life,
and wonder...which train?

once decided,
the whirring/fluttering will fade.

wind in my hair and face,
no fear of fomo.

just the desire for more time,
real gold is the beauty in a moment.

onism

n. the frustration of being stuck in just one body, that inhabits only one place at a time, which is like standing in front of the departures screen at an airport, flickering over with strange place names like other people’s passwords, each representing one more thing you’ll never get to see before you die—and all because, as the arrow on the map helpfully points out, you are here.

23 Emotions: Kuebiko

The middle of the middle,
day becomes the morrow.

Alone on the balcony.

Air forms my companion and has as much substance as one.
Hot.
Humid.

Dry lightning flashes in the distance.
(over the mountains)

Silent.

A world apart.
(come apart)

Wide awake with tired heaviness.
Quiet lightning at the dividing point.

One separating out into two,
and though it doesn't seem possible,
sleep comes.

The violence of the storm slips behind the front ridge.

...beneath our surface.

kuebiko n. a state of exhaustion inspired by an act of senseless violence, which forces you to revise your image of what can happen in this world—mending the fences of your expectations, weeding out invasive truths, cultivating the perennial good that’s buried under the surface—before propping yourself up in the middle of it like an old scarecrow, who’s bursting at the seams but powerless to do anything but stand there and watch.