Being Multiple

It is waking up in the backyard of a shared mind.
It is the deafening creak of a door hinge and the click of locks.
It is the blushing knees of a trapped child adventurer.
It is the endless drowning of an impossible daughter.
It is the cavernous under eye of a month’s forgotten nights.
It is waking up in a messy bedroom always changing in its stagnancy.
It is an escape and it is never escaping.
It is coffee-water and crazy-making hospitals.
It is trust never given.
It is a still ocean of protection.
It is the river rapids of remembering.
It is being so full of life that there is only one way to survive.
It is bursting into empty static.
It is containing in one body every frozen moment’s fear.
It is the most divine and lonely love.
It is the whispered promise of unlocking doors.
It is building a home in the hopeful wreckage of a shared mind.