Seed

Backwards and forwards, I flip and flop like a bug on its’ back and realize that nothing is ever normal. Even the smoothest fabric if pressed upon has some internal roughness.

Breaking the surfac to the tumult beneath I find safety. Chaos has order, order in chaos, and that is my demon. To name him I must embrace his caustic exterior, his calloused and jaded scales of wretched experience and I must grasp him harder and press him into me and myself into him and breathe in his nauseating hatred expelling it in a toxic cloud of lost stench. The deeper I journey into the crevices of his flesh, the valleys of his spiny protrusions, I can feel cool warmth pouring over my fingers. This is the part that I need. This is the best part of the trip. My wrist is aching as he tries to shut me out, but I delve deeper and now my elbow throbs and he cannot see the agony etched into my face and I cannot see the fear on his. And this is good. He’s melting into me and I am inside of him and I feel his reluctance to allow the merging of past and present and this is necessary in order to ensure the progression of the transplanted material. The acceptance of the former self merged into today. Now I may go on.