gillesderais (gillesderais) wrote,

The grace which passeth

The sounds of grace ringing thronging the walls of this house of this house of stones and bones worn gray worn brown worn pink by unconquered suns and by unconquerable sons of themselves the stones. filled to the very corners filled with and ringing this great bell of the space of our bodies from the lightest fairest hair on the bony peak of the foot to the flakes of skin trapped on your scalp reddening from the shame.


talking and awkward in my own, very own skin.

I walk around feeling my pulse in my gut in the very depths of my guts. Directly behind my solar plexus and stretched out with its head resting on my vertebra.

an echoing energy coils around my lungs they feel empty unfillable. I cannot fill my lungs with enough air. Nothing silences the restlessness. It keeps brewing, but there is no desire to go anywhere or do anything, just the anxiety burning.


heartbreak continues apace.

(end of entry)
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