Serpent Semblance

All of these poisonous snakes creeping out of my waters with the weight of wet tree trunks. Some go unseen but others I notice and ask them where they come from; their hissing reply always cruelly the same: “We are you, we are you,”

In defiance I strangle them angrily, painfully.

When I awake, hungover with emotion, I scan a reptile-absent horizon and to my horror I find my own hands wringing my neck, “It was not me, it was not me,” I cry softly to myself.


The Steps of Soil Formation

I’m stuck,

A stone thrown in my vocal river,

As a double-sided being with courses of cortisol and skin kissed with goat’s milk,

I never did get to know her until the skies were cleared of their wild whipped butter,

The insulation was warmly welcomed but eventually cooled off and became contradictory,

Freezing solid from the bottom up,

Life became static and limbs impossible to grow, so,

The Earth seemed to be punishing us,

But that effortless bright being was hard to shake,

And a force within kept flashing vascular visions,

A truth beyond the crowded streets,

Of noises, of beeps, of self-seeking creeps,

I wandered through grooves of polite patterns,

To pierce pomelo rind rigid with Saturn,

Seeds sown stiff now relaxed hieroglyphs,

Releasing sweet basil,

Paving routes with roots.



Collective One

At home, in your zone,
Snuggling softly simply for joy,
Minute to minute,
Day to day, in the delicate presence of being.

A strong sense of self,
Wilting forward to dip into sunlight,
Forgetting voids of helplessness,
Out of control, appearing like death.

You sit there motionless,
To soak and nourish like cucumber,
Fresh and crisp, an easy beginning,
How cold is it to start again, you wonder.

The invisible visibly haunts those rigid,
Stiff hands grope desperately,
Injuring fellow travelers,
Why are they here too, you wonder.


The Expressive Subconscious Puzzle

I swear, half the reason I don’t write is because I reflect all day long. I think all day and I don’t stop. When it comes to expression, it almost seems exhausting. Although considering that statement, I actually think of myself as quite the expressive person. Frequently I interact with people and share myself openly, and in that way I feel as if I have expressed.

“Thank you! I’ve expressed quite enough for today,”

However I am aware of the magic and intimacy held in personal writings, this, an example of the very concept: I am currently tingling with a feeling of ease, the one with which I can type and feel encouraged by the satisfaction of tangibly placing my thoughts.  My brain and body fuzzes the edges of these tingles, blending a sensation of indescribable oneness. It is a phenomenon experienced often by writers and artists, but I shall not discriminate here because I truly feel as if everyone is capable of this feeling.

Now when I say oneness, I don’t mean it solely in a spiritual manner. Instead I would call it self-awareness. Not just self-awareness of our conscious tendencies, but the determination to seek awareness of our subconscious.

Why do you constantly wake up drowning in a pool of anxiety every morning? How come I am never good enough for myself? Where are all these conditioned pathways coming from?

It is endless and everyone’s experience is valid and individual.

I intentionally share my thoughts with you but please let me stress this: I am on my own journey apart from others and in no way should my reflections be taken as factual. I have an intense interest in psychological and anthropological realms, and so I hope to prompt some thought.

I do believe that a lot of our subconscious tension and trauma comes from childhood conditioning. We are not only conditioned in a societal sense, we are also naturally conditioned from our upbringing. Fortunately for some that environment is generally healthy with only the usual family dysfunctions. However for others it is a traumatic, unsettling introduction to the world; rather than an unfolding of beauty and synchronicity as it has the potential to be (in my opinion).

I don’t want to make this a long, drawn out rant about how you can heal your anxiety by attending to childhood trauma……………but wait. Holy crap, that sounds pretty damn good, right?! So if you feel inspired: connect with your inner child, acknowledge the trauma cards dealt, and watch that anxiety lift – at least for a minute or two.

Yours vigorously,

Music Ingrdts.