+ Staying in, cleaning house

I am healing all four limbs after several tattoo sessions over the course of the last week. The first session, I tattooed myself for seven hours straight. The second, I had the entirety of the back of my left leg filled in, and the third was just yesterday; a third layer of solid black around both wrists. My fourth will be on Monday and then I will likely give myself another seven-hour session by week’s end.

Heightened are my senses, shaken is my self-awareness. There is something I am releasing that inches its way to surface as it dances toward self-sacrifice. A final seduction before passing on. I am exercised by it tonight, and it awakens every thread of every muscle of my being; sobering me up in the most productive way.

I am so thankful for raining days and storming nights. They reduce voices, sky pollution, and insistently invasive sounds of our obliviousness down to passing waves of rubber over road. Sitting down to write after days of flagellation does me good, and at once I am giving attention to the asks of my body. Clarity.

For several New Years wishes to the sky at midnight, I silently asked for that. It evolved to clarity of purpose, and that has certainly become clear.

Fall away, stubborn moss, for you have dried and have been given enough of my light.