Detox one's heavy mind

I can't remember a time when it was not normal to live in my head this way. To sit on the floor of the bathtub and be content with not washing up or being active in anything in particular. This was my Nirvana. Existing in the primordial birthplace of everything that could be seen by me. The world that I knew could be brought here in secret and picked apart for anything salvageable. The fears and curiosities that I harbored in my heart could be pulled out and aired in the analytical breezes that let me breath.

Here I stare at the white sun and breath the cleanest sunlight  into the pinkest lungs and my heavy skin drops like silks around my ankles. All the hardness in my eyes sands away in the lustrous air of this place and the sight of the outside gently tickles the newly exfoliated corneas. You and your life amuse me. I smile and my bright heavy cheeks vaporize letting my rosiness float up into the sky like a cloud. My weightlessness surprises me and my round ball of a stomach pops and shimmers off in the leafy, dancing wind. I stretch down to my toes and they melt softly into the shining carpet of green. I feel the sun coming closer to my cheek, It's warmth tingles in my breast.

The sun welcomes my mind into its crenelated recesses, to tumble on my back down its tubes and crevices.  I breath out my happiness at the sun and I tells me that I am right. That my mind and body and breathing place are right. The sun is in my breathing and it glows with the sunshine of my heart. The sun is my muse in the sky that follows me here to my breathing place, the place in the sky where I can lay out my day on a blanket and wrap it up again when I'm done. The sun is the bright heart that can hear when my eyes fall heavy on anything that is nothing to me. The shoulder that I lean on when I need to detox my heavy, heavy eyes. It helps my off with my heavy, heavy skin. It pumps air into my sinuses and holds me up as I float in my fluffy, light mind.

Back in the bathtub the sun is farther away than it had appeared, an object in an eyeglass.
My cold, heavy skin drips and my eyes cloud with the return of the bundled up day.

My face seems weighed down with thick heaviness in my cheeks. The light in my lungs glimmers with sterility and wavers to the beat of the outside. The light I breath now has come from a lesser sun than the one that shines brightest in the darkness. This outside sun is louder and tells my nothing encouraging, nothing that couldn't be found in my bundled up day.

This poem is about: 
Me
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