Like a Cliff-side Sequoia

There's a puzzle in my

Brain, that I take out

Once in a while.

If I'm lucky,

And I usually am,

The puzzle of hearts is already

On the table.

I like to mix and

Match the pieces:

A little heart where the brain goes,

A piece of brain, pumping the heart

-- A complete shamble.

I miss the days I could

Go completely cold.

The days I was so empty

My sole sensation

Was my own bone grinding.

So I would cut out and carve

And bloom sensation into the air around me,

Or I'd let it drip off my fingertips,

Either way,

It was more than the typical

Grind in my day.

Now, I feel so much and I

Yearn for a spring blossom,

To saturate the real,

Or to decipher what's reality

And what's my imagination.

I feel so much that all I do is feel,

Like a cliff-side sequoia,

So grand and timeless,

But never without waiver,

Like a cliff-side sequoia.

I wish my scars healed with the

Bark of tree,

Instead of ink,

And thirst.

Pink tissue never looks healed.

Or maybe I wish to become a tree

Where the memories etched

To my skin,

Were those of lovers,

And every years,

Once a year,

I get to bloom freely.