as I write these lines
i find happiness in my heart
at random, like water tasted pure
Possessing me, how could I
make happiness like me per se
I feel the lineage of bliss tonight
orchid whirlwinds residing

somewhere within, like melting from the inside
for sunsets and also, mad at the injustice
of cruelty, inequality, sexism
as I write these lines
I’m half over, half my life is maybe over
i’ve named the rest of my life
“perfection of the finite”

drapping her with erotic memories
of lotus gardens, unanimously empathetic friends
sun glazed “aha” moments
as I write these lines
I find happiness in my heart
with turquoise little secrets
left for me by me, like my diamond body

that doesn’t age properly, or
my soul that laughs at destiny
with not sarcasm but drunk plentitude
so i have invented a face for myself
that can lift all my thoughts, to quiet gardens
where reminiscences left-over imaginings
bathe me in constellations-speak

the feminine-telepathy-heartbeats
of the formless dizziness which/
that stirs my starting ladder of deserted voice.


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