The air is thick, fucking god is it thick.
My chest is heavy, weight of what must feel like anchors dragging the sea floors sandy soft bottom.
My breathing has slowed but not naturally, no not naturally...it wants to match the quickening flutter of my heart, and it's a struggle, a torturous struggle to remember to count IN...1, 2, 3, 4...OUT...1, 2, 3, 4...
It's a funny joke really how this meditative breath only cripples my knees because your scent fills my nostrils...intense wood fragments laced with coconuts all made from this earth.
I dare not allow you access to the windows of my soul...in fear all the mysteries, sadness and possible nevers-spill out in cosmic vomit.
I digest the rage, the passion like bubbling poison only known to star-crossed lovers...what fucking fools...
My skeletal frame rumbles flustered with annoyance because I am appalled your energy has potential to match my all-powerful defenses
...my ego screams...this does not exist only because I have never met a being that hasn't been smashed back into stardust laughing in the same present...this is an illusion.
I have been here many times before; the replay is engrained in my double helix; my soul does not make it back combined...these re-dos are done alone...always.
I have lived many stories all to be reborn knowing I am a powerful woman with extreme feminine energy doomed to never find the masculine puzzle piece my external longing relentlessly searches.
For that is the universal joke.
The gravity you radiate pulses calm lullabies softly surrounding my chaos...
As if it has danced with me long before the bang scattered all the parts I seek to restore.
The sun on my skin and the sand under my back, is a mimic of the warmth your aura drowns me in and...
...I am pissed, fuming so beyond betrayed that my heart is frozen, my heart is frozen floating here, in the silence
I can't catch my breathe.
Extremes, we are made of extremes, and it takes both to crush this time traveling rhythm, to understand space is spiraling and how orgasmic this wisdom feels when we lock eyes across space only to be present once again in this place.
Breath...1, 2, 3.
-CWolf
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Letter to our Queer & Trans Youth
Hey, you. I thought I’d start this letter by telling you a little about myself, just so you know who you’re dealing with. I’m an emotional dad, father to three amazing kids who we met through the foster care system, and whose presence in our lives has really transformed my sense of responsibility to the communities that surround us. The connections we’ve made with one another, with our extended families, and with the communities where we live and look for belonging have catapulted us into this whirlwind of emotional tumult which, while not easy by any stretch of the measure, has also been remarkably healing. I realize ours is really only a one-sided chosen family, since our kids didn’t get to choose to live here, but I’d like to think that they did choose to let us love them, which allowed them to grow to love us. And I think that’s where I want to go with this letter- to a place where you can find belonging and healing- even if the pathway there may be peppered with some emotional tumult.
By F Cade Swanson4 days ago in Pride
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