Introvert

She looked for closed-in places
She wanted small and empty spaces
To shut out interference of voices, noises, lies
To isolate reality
Or to isolate herself? She didn't know
Which she sought, or if it even mattered
She didn't like relief, colloquialisms, baby food
They confused her and put her in pain
They hurt her and made her afraid
She needed definition, acuteness
She thought maybe she could find it
If only she could get really alone
So she went around and around, smaller and smaller
Folding in further to greater and greater emptiness
Maybe people would call her an introvert
But she was past caring what they called things now.

the problem of subcreation following the fall

i should be speaking silver
(i should be breathing gold)
but every time i reach into my mouth
the fist i bring out clenches only
:vomit

they make a mockery of subcreation
(and my digestive tract)
by feeding me and feeding me
but blocking off my arteries, intestines
:vomit

so every time i reach down my throat
(into the soul inside)
there's nothing better to come up with
than what i'm throwing up now
:vomit

the stars sing together
(it is written)
my blood hears music ringing in my brains
but when i open my own mouth
i just keep throwing up and throwing up

they teach me how to lock the door
(for when i have to hide)
they teach me how to inhale, exhale slowly
regulate the retching but i know it's still just
:vomit

heal me, cleanse me
only You can be
treasure in this broken vessel
for Christ's sake amen
:shine