Spilt apart. What do I need to restore again?

Imagination. There’s something to that. Dream. The text is one thing. Awareness. Embodiment. Meditation. The alignment of chakras. Patience. Peace and acceptance. The moon, full on the sky, a gateway drug. Drugs are something, and the courage to take what’s useful.

Pain. I feel it spurting in my knees, rising up my spine, and catching in that misplaced vertebrae. Crook neck disjointed. A burning in my body.


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