herlucidlife

Sitting on my bathroom floor thinking of all the people in my life and how much they care for me yet know a small spectrum of my full being. No person has seen the full scope of my person outside of God. Not including myself I often fear, can you really ever know yourself fully? Some days I think I know everything about me and then life moves and grooves or I do something my mind never thought of before and I’m left thinking, “wow my own psyche doesn’t even have a rhythm.” She hiccups constantly, shocking the system yet faith never tumbling over. Modern day caveman holed up in my home tucked away from humanity pecking at my slab like cellular device. 

Normally used for communication, if everyone were to stop contacting me today they wouldn’t hear from me, though loved. Recluse, attending work for need sake though love for my place of labor is deep. Rooted in my place of worship it’s beginning to sink over and swallow what I once held more holy than just a job. Green herbs again. The same day repeats every time I try to put you down. Holding so much weight because my mind allows you too, thought of too often “impossible to remove” has been attached to your name. Haven’t written in days. The brain had been numbed. I just wanted to sit still staring into air watching motion pictures inside my skull. 

In the same place I’d been slumped and unfocused there was nothing to document. He came into my life. A guy that’s unalike any before, I’m really hoping it’s you because at the moment you feel too good but my gut intuition isn’t hollering. Maybe she’s quiet because I haven’t filled her with the power that enables function…the Word God’s Writing. Sometimes I think I starve myself to see how far I can make it. How far am I willing to go before I turn back home towards Jesus? The usual time frame is one day of feeling “I have it all together” before failure, long overdue it’s going on weeks. I’m a hot mess spewing toxic fumes to myself. Sickly poisoned, there’s no escape from the inner walls of this brain, no exit strategy, just death. I don’t want to accept that theory just yet. Wanting to live a little longer to sit in your midst, to nuzzle your neck, to feel your warmth on my skin. 

I’ve already thought about years down the line, excited for more than just the idea of you. Ideas can get boring. I’d like to have the texture of your psyche plastered on the walls of the house…tangible. A new person has caught my attention, glued super focused most don’t lose my eye unless purposely removed. Zoomed in on me too, the energy given by your vibe is nothing I’ve experienced. Why is it hard to believe someone could be genuine? Perhaps it’s the empty promises I’ve bought and sold myself, proof ain’t real until its birth its own proven will living and breathing. Nothing is light, crucial at all times. I don’t know how to cut off feeling you and every emotion so heavily. Not a plaything, a human with vessels and blood not walking recklessly. I really like this one. 

Fumbled the ones before so perhaps I won’t crush this one too badly. Not enough time has passed for old habits to die moving blindly through this obstacle course, it was an unnecessary detour. Leaving straight paths for crooked ones, something isn’t right.