I Have A Poem In Me / I'm Not A Robot

I am in the midst of a transformation, I think

Woozy

Weak

Weepy

Numb

Psychic exhaustion

I can't stop myself from wondering why

Why do I need to know why I am feeling like the elephant me and all the other kindergarteners were made to pretend to be?

Maybe I just feel like...this (make my arms like a swinging elephant trunk)

...like there's a leadened weight sitting on top my neck...because there has been a quite heavy load upon for quite some time. 

Maybe, I don't need to know why I'm crying on this beautiful, blessed rainy, grey day...

After all, I mean, I'm not a robot. I'm not stoic. When even laughter bursts up from out of my green chakra'd heart, it mostly explodes like the realest, hottest lava that ever was. I'm not a robot, you know?

And my tears have always seemed like they've travelled to my eyes from my all loving, wise Higher Self from probably 186, 222 lifetimes before. My tears are old tears. Ancient. I think.

I don't want to hole away my depth, my mess, my journey, "my real;" trade it in for "innocuous sleepwalker." I'd rather writhe and wail and feel uncomfortable and out of sorts. 

I need to know why I desire what I desire, think what I'm thinking, am manifesting what I Am Manifesting. Because eating away my confusion, sleeping away my weariness, tv watching away my Desire, pakalolo smoking away the heavy moments that show up like skipping rocks in the summer, or the Fall. Or, on a Thursday. Or unexpectedly on a rainy Wednesday in February. You know? I want to know, why...can't I sleep. How come tears won't stop falling today. And yesterday. 

Maybe it's just because I'm an Angel Being in humxn form who is having their butterfly metamorphosis.

I'm at the pinnacle moment. Everything is about to change. I think. No, I know.

Right now is just right before the miracle. 

Don't you leave before the miracle. 

It's right...there.