transformation is like a hall of mirrors in changing images — flashes of the past, present, futures real and never-to-be-fulfilled.
((( goin thru it atm )))
i am reminded — wormholed — to the reflected times from in this life (transformations real and imagined). the quality of time so similar, the contexts of adjacent worlds.
i get these flashes of images and rough self-finding globular formations; often a lil queezy from all the composting and reformation. [ a cycling and changing that’s real (physical/cellular) as well as imaginary (of dreams & starstuff) and sometimes an imperceptible neither ]
there’s this angst too, that comes with the uncertainty, maybe distrust, of the process. its smaller now tho.. the comfort-clinging reluctance to release becomes less friendly as its stagnant reality of rot lays fresh in my past. i feel now the ghost of the angst, in the shadow of the overbaked readiness to be gushing thru the process. a feeling familiar but faded and loose enough to shake off with ease and honey. the creature of my meatsuit ever learning(leaning) for pleasure and the satisfaction of shared assurance, (it sideeyes my timeline of other timespaces.) i invite them back to the table (my body), the space between my crossed legs, before my guts and behind my hands. we are a cookie with slowly, melting, softening, w i d e n i n g edges in the rays of my own sun. the creature of me forgets the pleasure of presence sometimes. the pain is so pervasive within and without that it colors deeper hues of knowing and needing, which is its own type of earthpleasure. i forget too often that when i turn towards me i turn towards us, only a full revolution deeper. i remember again how life is a series of forgetting and re-membering. the next time we meet, a new layer of seeing you awakens. for now, i let my belly turn to butter, with unseen forces whipping gently into new form. new corridors of loving alight.
₊⋆ 𓍊𓋼𓆏⁺₊𓋼⋆𓍊 。˚𓋼⋆ ☁︎ ˚𓍊 ⁺☀︎ ⋆𓋼⁺₊