"BITCH, YOU ARE INFINITE."

something called

God

whispers

as my

shades of grey

m

e

l

t

into a burst highlighter

orgy called sunset.

.

but.

.

it’s not sunset,

it’s the time right after,

the sweet afterglow like

tonight the sun fucked

the sky just right

and

now she can do nothing

but emanate

pleasure,

blushing glorious

rubescent shades,

awe-striking all

who lay eyes upon her.

.

I was spiralling for

a minute there,

lost my footing,

it tends to happen when

I forget who I am—

not the fallible human

who trips over

her own feet,

but the sacred vessel

through which

divinity flows.

.

There’s this book where

the girl asks the boy what

his biggest fear is,

and he answers:

“oblivion”,

.

and I think that’s mine too.

it happens sometimes,

an inner eclipse,

like who the fuck I am

escapes me.

how is that?

when my memories are

etched into my brain so

photographically,

.

that I could draw you

the exact position

of the sun above him,

feel the way the September

air iced my neck,

taste the bitter

on my lips,

on the very

moment

love left

his eyes.

11:42AM UTC -9

.

I always remember

yet here I go again,

forgetting again,

and then forgetting

that I forgot.

.

you know how it is.

.

but

it’s a terrible thing,

forgetting,

and I simply

don’t have the time.

so self,

with love,

get your notepad out,

you’re going to want

to jot this one down

for the next time

that elephant

called doubt

sits on your chest:

.

BITCH, YOU ARE INFINITE.

.

on a seemingly

unrelated but totally

related note,

unpopular opinion:

air conditioning is an

oppression mechanism.

the more boxed

air I breathe,

the more I

forget.

.

the further my feet

from the mud,

the more I

forget.

.

the less I see her,

the more I

forget.

.

but with her,

I always

remember.

.

last time,

she sent her wolves

down the street

to howl at a full moon.

so I could

remember.

.

another time,

she sprinkled

bioluminescence

in ocean waves.

so I could

remember.

.

this time,

she oil-painted

the sky my favourite

shades of neon.

so I could

remember.

.

so many times

I’ve forgotten,

dabbled

in that smallness

that pretends

to be humility,

shackled by

the fragility

of this mere humanity

but she always

pulls up a chair,

and patiently as ever,

says:

“darling, it's safe to

remember.”

.

and the trees,

and the breeze,

and the glittering

waves both when they’re

rough and when they’re placid,

whisper in God’s voice:

.

“BITCH, YOU ARE INFINITE.”

.

And maybe when I say God,

you think of

a bearded white man in the sky

but

when I say God,

I mean the only God I see--

I mean the very Earth beneath my feet,

my sweet, gentle caregiver

who will slap a bitch if need be,

the one who cuts

through all the noise

and brings me back to me.

when I fly off in all directions,

gravity tugs on my feet

and the Earth, in

all her glory,

this place that I call home,

well she rocks me

like the mother she is

and whispers:

.

“BITCH, YOU ARE INFINITE.”