And yet so small

I wake after a fitful rest
I find my body naked in a vast expanse of desert
I am thirsty
It is night.  I lay on my back the sand

I gaze up at the stars
and I fall asleep again
I wake floating somewhere out beyond our solar system
far beyond.
I am nowhere
I am everywhere

I float and drift into sleep again.

I wake and find myself a stirrup bone
in  a pile of bones
I vibrate against
all the bones of all humanity

I sleep, I wake

I am a spider suspended from the ceiling of  the palace ballroom
I am an ant in the rain forest
I am a mote of dust on a ray of light
I am a duck in the desert
I am a moose in the city
I am an octopus in outerspace
I am a mosquito at the bottom of the ocean

Yesterday I was a giant.
I couldn’t find a cage big enough to hold me.

I read today that mystics feel small.

I was already infinitesimal as the words came to my eyes.

But I am an ignorant savage.

I wake on my expensive mattress.
Truly worth its weight
Insomniacs deserve such a bed.
I feel the dog twitching in his dream
Breathing heavily as his legs muscles make larger twitches

A tear falls down my nose
as I realize
I am a sliver of glass in amongst all the broken hearts of all humanity.

I reflect on how, I am never jealous of this man.
How I encourage him to go out with his friends,
How I don’t give a rat’s ass how he spends his money,
How he never has to be told to do the work.
Or pay his bills.
I never question where he says he is.
I do not ask when he comes home late.
I don’t care who he is talking to on the phone.

Who was the one who was crazy?
CooCoo finger spiraling around my ear.
Who was the one who was “co-dependent”?
Why was it ME when I only ever had these problems with him?

I was blindsided I tell her.

I never saw it coming.

I was too busy

Pretending everything was alright.

And covering my own insanity.

I hate myself for still carrying this burden.
I ask myself, what would it feel like to go a day without thinking of him, or her.
I wish they would disappear so I don’t have to ever think of either of them again
I wish they would hurt, so I won’t anymore.
I learn to embrace this hateful me, this ugly me, this dumpy me, this frumpy me, this cactus of pain that stabs me, this tapeworm inside of me with its gnawing and infernal hunger.

I have so much more now than I ever had then
SO WHAT IS IT THAT I CANNOT LET GO OF?

They say that we are more like an etching than an intaglio.
We are not what is scarred onto our surface, burned and blackened,
We are what is left when everything else is worn away.

I fall asleep.

I wake up.

I am naked now.

But I am not shivering.

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