Self-loathing comes on with the bright sunrise. Fractal enveloping, shadows fall on distant stars, eclipsing feelings within. This now the summer of my discontent. This emptied nothingness, swallowing words before they can reach the tight pink seal that are your lips. How the burden of silence rests heavy on our hallowed hearts. And what would these words even say? Were they to move mountains, or collapse wings? How strange a whisper can be that these walls crumble before my eyes.

These distant stars, disappeared in a blink before we‘d ever know just how bright they could burn. Imprints fresh on eyelids, are we living mere reflections of our shadows? Our selves as subject, chained to language. Reflected by shamed scars upon skin, how we try to hide the consequences of sounds, how limited we are by wavelengths. Words to move mountains, words to collapse wings, words to make shamed scars upon skin. All these words taken in, prisons for our collective freedom. Break apart from our confines so that we may finally understand one another. There is no higher place, there is only human.

The shadows reach the summit of their experience, only to look back at the multitude of broken lights and withering stars, all trying to re-discover their radiance. The sun sets as quickly as it rose, darkness falls early but the stars will continue to flicker, steady as it may be, fleeting as our hearts.

What is in a binary? Forced normativity thrown unto us. What is in a word but power and authority. What is in a language but tools to divide.

Words to move mountains, words to collapse wings. Create difference from equality, draw few from the many. Words to draw blood, words that have left these scars. Failed dialectics and how we’ve come to this. Here now in the summer of my discontent, the figure i see is not the one i feel within. Your words have held control, your words have defined, but your binary has failed us, leave it to burn.

For years I hated myself for not feeling adequate, for not feeling like the man I was told to be. I hung on to these notions of masculinity until the shame of not belonging cut holes through my skin.

Take these trembling hands and tell me it’s not all broken, that it’s not all lost. I want to burn as bright as a million stars, free from all the guidelines of how I should feel. I want to burn as bright as a million stars. Fleeting as it may be, steady as our hearts.

Shed the limits of our language so we can breathe free, we are all one we are all nothing.