Soul blisters

There are sores and blisters on my skin

I know not from wence they came

after the morning light sprawled through my sill

I felt the hands of time ticking backwards

Reminisce on past duende

I was like fluid running between iron framework

some would swear I was too arrogant

I took the form of a space-occupying lesion

The blisters lasted a few years

before they coalesced together like a wave

reminding me the past never hides away

this tumor can only be carved with laser

But this isn’t about the blisters

it’s not even about arrogance

though they all influence my demeanour

it is about the keel i’ve rebuilt since then

I’ve dug out fossils of my being

and wiped off secretion from my chin

i keep pointing into the shards like there’s someone there

to help me climb out of this jar

I’m fairly stronger than a twig

My process is a layer of chaotic wind

It’s time to disintegrate my ship

and healed confidence where shame blisters once were

The process

I tried many times to explain how it works

but really there is no formular to solve this

the mess is alway supposed to be ugly

Something you should hide from everyone that knows you

if they see it, you feel guilty. if they don’t, you feel guilty

you don’t tell anybody and you nurture fear

now there is hole, borrowed so deep you can’t see the end

this all started with your perception of the mess

look at the mess you’ve made

you’ve harvested a basket of regret

i can’t speak right, and i cant laugh right

but the mess could be beautiful too

i don’t need these guilt

i don’t need to worry about others beliefs

it’s the process of unravelling your mess that straps you tighter inside

like a fly struggling in a Venus fly trap

but you could see it as a person

let it know you’re still afraid but this phase will pass

as long as we live, there will always be new messes to process

better to work with it than to push against

there’s never been a formula for it

I am a mess, but i’m beautiful still.