A wind chime played not by the rhythm of the wind

Dwell

Churn as if events were butter

Xray my brain

You’ll find gears for neurons

Grinding memories to a fine powder

Analyzing their details

Move on

What good is dwelling?

But I want a dwelling

Just not in this deep well

The housing market is bad for buying

I already have a dwelling

not selling

Never without shelter

Dwelling in my head

My body is foreign

And going unsaid

My head creates tangible in the ephemeral

Swimming in the inkwell

My body is tangible among fleeting

Flying thoughts

Butterfly catcher chasing

Not caring about bare feet on hard ground

Catch the target

Feet carry weight

Bleed they may

Rocks, splinters, trash impede

Do your job so I can fixate

A wind chime played

not by the rhythm of the wind

instead

by manic expectations

control

and hold

What noise I

Dwell

On here

Here

My body does not know there unless she were to go there

But then

Well, it would be here

When I live in the dwelling of my body

Then I dwell without dwelling

Note from author: work in progress