Birth canal * 7/29/13

For having labored down my birth canal,

contracted into first acts of self denial,

a first sense of self-exile,

placed upon an altar of false attention,

rendered, interpreted,

introduced to distraction as learned existence,

maximally visceral but diminishing,

yet more kinesthetic by invitation.

I am boundless energy,

assumed to be seeking containment.

I am open to an endless array

as if interest is activity,

struggling with edges and boundaries,

flatly isolated from before,

prompted for these interactionals,

given tidbits from home.

I am only a full cauldron of being,

longing for the ocean of spirit,

overwhelmed by the pronunciation of fear,

the commitment to symbols,

to eventual language but not truth.

I am blessed and cursed by what is inferred,

eventually swayed by temporality's appeal,

bound by repetition's insistence,

driven to disguised sensitivity,

developing an affect of being.

I am propelled by stories,

preparing for their roles

exchange with others

who are rarely presence.

I am living before conclusion's toll,

promoting as if pain offends,

polarized by confusing self demands,

bleak through the mediums

that lengthen time.

I am experienced

as if the journey's loot,

wandering amongst wanderers,

soulful before response.

When does inception's closure end?