While disregarding the sentiment,

“I” squirm painfully between what has, and has not been allowed.

Where a sense of myself floats malevolently above.

You are confirming “me” to myself.

We are speaking, but not listening. “I am” speaking but not listening.

“I am” gestures towards action-based value that unknowingly, or knowingly, leads to confirmation of “self.”

“I” disregard sentiment of love.

“I” disregard sentiment of belonging.

There is a distaste for somethingness now. There is a pain in being now.

What makes “me” does not dictate value any longer.

That invisible force that moves “me,” that springs my body up in the morning, whispers “take control, make it happen, be ‘yourself,’ be ‘me’ again.”

The anxiety of missing –

missing what is set in front of me, like water in a barren wasteland – pulls me still.

Pulls me so hard I stay in place where meaninglessness is replaced with self-aggrandizement.

“I” climb, yet fall.

“I” feed, yet starve.

Knowing is in the dying and I am still breathing.

What is terrifying in dislocation?

Can I trust the guiding stars of my soul?

Where else can the distilling of reality shed light on the darkness of my knowing?

There is slavery in certainty

and pain in direction and “I” have no need for it because there is love

and there is hate but there is no “me” and there is no “you.”

The path is clear. It is simply not found forward or back,

left or right,

up or down.

It is found in the unknowing of what made “me” “me.”

It is found in the acceptance of the love inside and outside. Where somethingness

disappears, and belonging becomes illuminated.

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