quarta-feira, 25 de junho de 2025

Tickling the heart so ashamed

 tickle the answer
form from one to seven
somewhere in between
the spine curves down from the brain

somewhere from where evolution
lost us our long furry tails
crawling scrambling laughing running
bragging comparing swearing and humbling

Reacting and responding holding in
sometimes just letting go
Delicate until we are hardened
illusions in our partying

tickling out a sense of self 
spilling it out over forbidden canvas
we are ashamed and pigeonholed
naked and abominable

worthless and criminal
tickle that out of a question
an inquision that laughter won
eating the kitchen massacre

mistaking the knives for insights
and stabbing ourselves with them
shameful blood pouring out across the cleanliness
exposed like the ant under the microscope

full of assumptions and clumsy hope
wandering out of the night terror
into the mundane desert where prickly cactus
tickle the conscience to relive it's experiences

each small needle like wound at a time
Whistling to the very echo over sandy hardness
that seems to mirror the sensation from under the skin
Except for that incessant tickle

The waxiness of the modified stem
Cut it open for water is scarce
Pierce it as it pierced you
There will never be justice

though such fantasies often tickle that sweet pride
The one you've hidden in the southernmost city of the heart
abandoned and neglected to tweekers and agoraphobes
who tickle the blood as it flows by

each small attempter trying to imitate the true soul
whose long absences invite them up on that stage
The very holofort light they crave
tickling sensitive eyes and skin

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