This entry was from sometime in 1987, my first year in college. You know those times of trying to find out who you are. You’ve got freedom, but don’t know what that really means or how you'll respond to the experiences. Here’s me trying to figure me out:
Don’t bump me in the heart of my depression, but caress it with the sweat of your love. Straight through it and I’ll blow like the wind, or warm slowness and electric life in eyes, lips speaking truths, judgments held at bay - our hope combines. Chastised hearts seen in the past, emotional pains in my hands, and where are you now?
Sighing burns holes inside - waiting is way too long. Don’t cry over my death. Begin my rebirth with the sweat of your love and lift me a little higher.
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