a rough manifesto
of a twenty something
i wrote it in my manifesto that i want to become one with you. i want to be one in your roots, in your twisted veins. i witnessed you and your bare back. naked as an animal. not knowing it’s nude. i want to be whole, i said it in my manifesto in the buddha remarks.
i’d walk with you until the end of earth, until the end of eternity. until i’m whole again. i want the disgustingly romantic in all its gory. i’d so be willingly cut my skin so you can crawl into me as i step into you, be as close as i can. to be skinned, boned deep to my marrow. as far as i can touch into your soul.
in this, when i say ‘you’ i mean me. i’m freshly twenty-three, i have no lover but i have myself and everything i want to become. i was loved once. it was bliss. and somewhere deep in my words, there was you, but you got lost along the way. but i’ll save a song and a dance for you anyway.
freshly twenty-three and i witnessed my audience as the trees, the wind, the birds. i want to be in unison with everything i see around me. freshly twenty-three and i’m learning to be angry. i swore i knew everything 5 years ago, but twenty-three now i barely know anything. i wake up twenty something with the sun greeting upon my skin that’s losing its melanin in the blue days. i wake up with gratitude to welcome a new day i have yet touched, i feel relieved that the sun does not ask of what i did to deserve another day, and it’s all for me to embrace and unfold. twenty-three and i’m in love with myself more than ever. i know nothing yet but i know i’m here. twenty something. i can feel this rawness in my yearning like no other. I can feel it - the liberation in oneself. i wrote it in my manifesto. i can become whole with everything that i am.
a free flow, vomit of words.