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1. self-mythology; ruin
I knew to tilt the vinyl just enough to warp the sound
but not how to dip my face under water
to see the boy in me drowning.
when the bible said jesus walked on water
it meant every one of us stands
with an ocean underfoot.
most of us sink half our soul to seabeds.
in my coming-of-age
I tethered my boyhood to a sunken ship.
boy soul, the son I could’ve been.
at nineteen young luxx was all fur coats and lingerie
bowie grinning off the record player,
kid-come-woman still learning how to swim
preoccupied with being the opposite of men.
shaved bare and shitless, tits up and clothes strewn across the room
ain’t no costume colder than that of the young woman.
2. Carl Jung; analysis
i've seen you, big man, locking
horns as if the world were closing
in. a single seed in both fists
show me your overwatered harvest,
lady soul perspiring through your skin
(she always escapes, btw
an underwater with wings).
with a record skipping on the deck,
you press yourself into a woman
you just met, lamplight pouring shadows
round the room.
Jung named an animated foreign body
in the ocean of each of us,
saw men clawing back towards the womb
warned us if we neglect our opposite
sex- soul could lead to death.
gender. the oldest weapon against ourself.
3. Amina Coming; disorder
bowie knew
when the tides come
her scent will intoxicate you
rising from drain holes
open windows
air vents blowing smoke
of thin cigarettes
you will drown in her
grinning too / unsure of why you’re grinning too.
big man, the abyss is always watching you.
look at us:
dusting eternity off our knees
rinsing shadows down plug holes
wiping soul off reading glasses,
we ain't clean right through.
she will be your living end.
my boy soul became suspended
beneath the record player needle,
abandoned song
humming haunt into my nudity.
water is how we measure fright.
if I had been all soil and winged,
I could've pretended I couldn't hear him
echoing through the emptiness,
chasing me to hospital beds.
big man, you were in the bed beside me
no beetle cars, or musky scents.
we both swallowed too much sea.
you looked a lot like a part of me.
4. Amina Fought and Won; spiritual development
this small blue we shiver on
is a costume party
but at 4am when the tides come in
we’re tender, bare faced,
clothes strewn across the floor.
that breadcrumb trail of surrender.
naked, walking round the room
extractor fan blowing through a soul
you can’t be told
has always been chasing after you.
my boy soul was not my living end
I lay that belief on you.
the lady of your soul grins, laughing;
she will change your point of view
don’t be afraid of the shadows who seduce you.
flooding into this room
that grinning, half-sung, still singing
soul, will come will go.