Repurposed on purpose

Could you repurpose a porpoise? Can you repurpose a person?  Can you personally repurpose a person who couldn't personally purpose themselves? I don't know if I am allowed to be this different, in such a different space.  It must be fake - I must be in the tank.  But, are you in the tank with me? Are we rubbing up together in viscous liquid that sticks to our skin like watered down petroleum jelly? Turning in the mess indefinitely.  Am I asking for it?  Am I waiting for it, and by waiting for it, bringing ever closer to being?  Do I anticipate so clearly, that I call the action into action?  And, I will know why it happened, it was because it happened and I knew it. I knew it would happen.  Did it happen?  Will I know it if it does happen?

Crooked little bird bath of freedom

Temporary.  Like an ugly eye floater that refuses to center itself - that alludes me with every sideways glance but won't go the fuck away for good, happiness. Get over here and lay eggs in my skin, spread into my lymph nodes and become an inoperable mass of happiness.  Like a splinter in my foot, take a life time to travel to my brain - never leave, never outgrow me, never seep from an open wound.  Linger like an STD. 

click it

  me when i am dreaming

Instinkt

If I had a beak and a pebble fell and hit it, I'd get out of the way.  If I was an antelope and I heard the grass rustle, I'd run.  If I was cheetah, I wouldn't chase a mouse for meat.  If I was a flower, I wouldn't bend to the shade. But, I am a woman - I lean into the wind not to steady myself but see how long I can stand before you blow me over. I chase the meatless, look in the shade for the light. I believe the liar. I sleep next to the lite match, caress my healed burns and cry when I am burnt in the morning.  I build my house while the tornado blows. I am a fool with large eyes, a confused monkey whose instincts were checked at the threshold of my mother's womb.

But, like a stupid ram who picks a fight with a mountain, I wait for your loose parts to crumble. 

Sub-atomia what?

We are a combination of the states of two systems that once interacted but were then separated and are not each in a definite state. Us cats are both dead and alive.

potato chips

What if I am only the bag it came in?  Empty now.  My insides have been eaten up, and nothing but greasy discharge left inside.  There is only so much of everything, and sometimes there is just no more. Can't move, any step is a misstep.  mistake.  My circuits are down, my signal is busy. I am broken heart. I am failed mission.  I am disappointed - ment. I am thirst. I can't find you. You can't send a letter to a bird. Closeness and distance are equally uncomfortable.  

Post Tits

My belly pushed out past my crouch today...it is swollen with uncertainity and water.