219/365: The Profanity of Being An Individual

Okay, coffee. It's you and me against this unrelentingly grey Tuesday.

The absence of disease is not health.
I shrug my shoulders and say,
I'm not dead yet,
and laugh,
I am alive!

There is no sacredness
when we no longer have secrets.
We have been made to believe
that secrets equal shame,
and now it consumes us,
shame that is not even ours,
and we offer up confession after confession
in service of phantom liberation.

Our depths have been usurped by a violent cuckoo.
We've been stolen.

You were a secret person once.
Remember your closet or under your bed
where it was quiet
and it was just you,
and your thoughts were the true things
that fought the false fabric outside your door.
Remember that person.

The absence of disease is not health.
My shoulders are shrugging and I cannot stop them.
I am alive!
I am alive!

#365poems at Schmutzie.com