archives.

History have mercy on me;

let me slip into a state of grace.

As if a recital, 

          my remedy incessantly leaks error.

          I have let neglect get the best of me.

Feed my meditation.

Let will stoke in the pit of my pelvis;

invoke a contagious tenacity that gives way to inspiration.

The very bones of my being tremor with thirst,

for I am glowing indigo.

Now this clairvoyance you speak of I taste.

Through my undoing I have elevated my essence and redressed my pensive soul;

breath supports my fortitude to reclaim a reposed abyss that germinates at the base of my back.

Let the pierce of your arrow strike my achilles

watch my dance rouse as I hypnotize history into a state of grace.

xo,peace,k