Those instincts that scratch at your sides.
Heaviness sitting on your chest
as you try to fall asleep,
making it hard to breathe.
Nagging. Tugging.
Chaffing. Weight.
Thoughts of 'what if'.
I can't find peace of mind
looking to prose and poetry
neatly organized into numbered chapters
to point to a clear path.
Or sitting on benches
looking onward
as one directs the masses
from a far off, pristine pulpit.
There is chaos in this world
with energy and magic.
Spontaneous connections. Sparks.
Encounters not missed.
New faces. Connections.
All around us. All the time.
I am the welder.
I understand the capacity of heat
to change the shape of things.
I am suited to work
within the realm of sparks
out of control. I am the welder.
I am taking the power
into my own hands.
This Bridge Called My Back
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