You impose yourself with large uncorrupted feathers.
Scratching your dictations into the curvaceous bubble.
I want you to empty yourself, to listen and look at me.
Forget about your body for a moment and everything you think.
You have your pain and I have mine.
I want you to climb into my skin and
Discover how deep all the stories go,
Discover how I combat annihilation every single day.
I want you to move around in my body.
Talk in my voice. Feel the thoughts in my brain.
Watch the regurgitating memories unfold tragically.
Sense how disconnected everything inside me can be.
I want you to try to grow, to breathe, stand taller than you are, to relax.
To give it your best to make my feet touch the ground.
I want you to stop talking and listen, imagine, dive right in.
Every word bears an emotion, try to keep your head above water.
I would like to know whether our fears are the same?
What happens to us if we’re cornered and threatened?
Have you moved ahead, using my feet and legs and heart?
They’re hovering around you and you know you’re never safe.
Their surreal thoughts and carelessness make your body unsafe.
There is no sanctuary. Why are you reaching out to me now?
The street is getting tighter, and you want to switch shapes again,
My body for yours, back, how do you feel about me now?
“Madeleine” by Arthur Hughes (1832-1915)