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we are all figs here


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  • Sometimes we see people and we find ourselves reaching out-
    trying to touch our too small reflections in the concaves of their necks,
    just below the chin where the unspoken words stay.
    I live there; they say a conscious is in your head, but I disagree.
    Because I think in the voice-broken hollow under my chin.
    I feel it pushing me down keeping me for later or never,
    my essence forever strangled and swallowed.

    Are you lying beside the "I meant well's" sitting in your esophagus
    hands drifting over the words bitten back at the last second ?
    Last second when you noticed there was no reflection in the person to your right,
    when you reach out with extended fingers only to see nothing there,
    and realized there was no you at all?


    I once tried to become the shadow of a man's adams apple.
    He was just sitting he wasn't looking for anything isn't that a wonder!
    He was sitting and I sat too imagining myself to belong to a body so noble.
    I crawled into the wrinkles in a ladies mouth while she was laughing.
    And it seemed like a good home until I fell out from between her teeth,
    I was grasping for anything to be- anything other than vacany just sitting and waiting
    asking, begging, chanting even: Where are my people? Where is my reflection?


    #gempoeting



Overripe sushi, The master Is full of regret.
— Buson