​survival meditation 2

Lately you've acquired these... dents
Parts of yourself that your family would be ashamed of
And probably are, because these aren't things you try to hide
Not really
And eventually it all takes over
And you forget what it was like before
Before her
And the way you didn't even have to *static*
Before the *static* against your trembling *static*
And your hands try to figure out what to do with themselves
Stupidly [?] [?] [?] and dark fabric [?]
Before your *static* body trembling the way it does when everything is going so right
But your mind keeps this pleasure a secret from the rest of your flesh
So your body's afraid
And excited
And it doesn't know why
Don't fool yourself
You can't even recall

There is nobody there
Except in that town
You were born gasping, writing on a Greyhound bus, careening down an unknown Interstate
After twenty five years of protracted gestation
A black skirt
And a black hoodie
Another passenger looks at you, like...
Whatever
But they don't know
They never know

You are uncomfortably familiar with the precise manner in which you will fall apart when you arrive in this big city
Reach the door, process the visual
Oh God
Keeping it together for a little while
[?] the pieces with nowhere to go
Sitting on her bed
Strewn across her bedroom floor and somebody sighs
Something crawls inside your spine
And

That town
Half a dozen years ago
Early morning air outside the house she was taking care of
A different person
But the same sick pressure in your spine and stomach that you feel now
That town
Half a dozen years ago
Getting ready to leave
Remembering [???] with a torso sheathed in loose thick fabric
Filling in, as you didn't know you wanted to be at the time

That town
Half a dozen years ago
Trying to feel nothing in the morning outside
And it's happening again
It's happening again
And I wish it only death
I need to survive
But you won't let me