Evolution demands the shucking of my husk
For what (liberty) have I to incant lofty aspirations
from within false glow and click?
Lusty and alive
golden sunlight on raw plasm
feels foreign yet comforting
like unfamiliar consonant combinations
sounding on my tongue
reverberating at the back of my throat -
foggily remembered like an old friend
casualty of traumatic disassociation
Brought back again now
The thing about Knowing is that one can never unlearn it, for better or worse. It can be forgotten, misplaced, ignored, denied — all choices, unconscious or otherwise — but never eradicated. The truth, when we see it, imprints itself upon our cells for safe-keeping, echoing some ancient rhythm that we spend our lives pursuing despite our deliberate amnesia.
Knowing is constant. We must only stop running, and remember.