Truth is.. pt V

Seven twenty six.   Darkness.

I am laying in bed without clothes and
with the overhead lights on
legs and  arms outstretched
hair wild, imperfect and beautiful
like davinci's drawing of the Vitruvian Man
outstretched and star shaped, an
ancient symbol of the elements, that's me.
Out into the hallway i can hear music.
Out into the street, the night rolls quietly
covering everything with its oily curtain.

On this procrustian bed of mine I
lay flat    in pure, white,  clean linens and
the windows are open a little
welcoming the cold october night's
touch onto my shivering skin.  

I am laying like a corpse
having let go of Me
and my selfhood floats gently
mingling, mating with the air above
close to the light bulb
I am not anymore my selfhood
nor my thoughts
nor my desires
nor my wishes
nor my illusions
nor my pain
nor my love
nor my anger
nor my leaving
nor my presence
nor my gifts
nor my fixations

I am not anymore.


i can see these elements swirling
above the bed like moths dancing around the
light bulb

and it makes me happy.