Its been quite a wild couple of months. Im getting better at so many things, getting super saiyan at listening.
The inverse is more familiar to me right now than my own ego. Art is taking its time licking me up and down my spine, caressing my most vital operating systems and filling my blood with shameless promotion of my subconscious.
My tea tastes better honest, and im the one sipping, and im the one brewing. If you bump me it might spill and have you lost but those places are igniting because they taunt change.
God knows us. Im making spaces for others to remember that.
Shes stroking my cheek, a loc falls and makes itself salty with a tear, she presses it back to reveal eyes that remember. She gives the answers and I reflect back through the vessels that triggered me. She reminds me that i thrive in compassion and i throw up the worlds i swallowed that attracted madness. I look at the mess in the toilet and my reflection clears the nausea.
We fell out, took some space. Things are different now that i can see her. Now that i can see me.
Ive been a target for black gatekeepers, while the understanding of their god complex patches the holes in my truest identity, until the patches flood into their stitches, rendering me who ive always been.
Ive been a receptacle for a womans pain, women have been a receptacle for mine. I know more places to go. discomfort strengthens the wisdom i need to know the difference between mature reasoning and ego driven outburst, between selfless admittance and entitled attack. One of my guides told me his name last night.
With the tv sewing our bedding and exfoliating necessary oils from our lips, it may be years until you see someones captain, the small organism in their brain space, pushing buttons and shifting gears, media on the headset.
Some of us have cut the wire to the non-God mindset, some of us have rats chewing them, and some of us know we can pull the plug on our own but remain afraid to lose contact entirely. Afraid to rely only on the source energy from which we came. Subconscious thought is the beyonce of our perception arena. I learn from my reflection. Someone plants an angry seed in hurtful soil, comebacks change the pebbles to glass, the water into antifreeze. The seed is meant for weeds, but i dig it up and find healthy earth to replant. It hurts, its hot, the glass and the oil sting my skin. But when i carry the seed into its rightful womb, the unhealthy soil vanishes, and the seed sprouts even before i touch the ground.
Im a magnet for those who prioritize an open mind over a winning trophy, over a gold star jab. I sense defense, and a closed heart. I brush that plaque off of my teeth and i can suddenly speak fearlessly.
We speak knowing that we are vessels for the god expansion, all-seeers, not all-knowers. Knowing what others say is never personal, although they may make it seem so. Listening to someone tell you about what they think of you tells you much more about them than it does about yourself, and we ultimately know that.
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