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Rites Of Passage

written by: Michael Shea

@calmsbehaviour

 

Sounds are clearer? Yes less muffled, pressure on squeezed and pummelled.
Softness and warmth are far too much as the pressure comes to a crutch.
Heat gives way to a touch of, cold?
Heart beats like it wants out too, breathing, pressure no more wet feels hard to do.
Pushing onwards there is a light?
This way is tunnelled.
I am free.
Bells and noises of far too many, collar tight and pants feel itchy.
Faces poke and fingers prod; sticky smells and feels so odd.
One face un-blurs, a hand is with me.
Eyes like a marble make my insides bubble, heart thumps sharp like when there’s trouble.
Endure the constraint till once more outdoors.
I am yours.
Pushing and angry, not sure what the reason for this was anymore.
Trying to punch and not succeeding as the bell sounds for lunch.
Heart beats like a sun inside my face.
On the floor, feel a punch and disgrace.
I am lost.
Hair of auburn tousled and gripped, lips are wet and parts are licked.
Softness and pressure, moans of animals escape my aching mouth.
Heart beats in my chest and a pulse starts way down south.
I am alive.
My heart aches, mouth is dry and breath is harder in this dryness to come by.
I see a tunnel and a light?
I am free.

Michael Shea

Michael Shea

I am a behavior therapist slash philosopher author living in rural Queensland
Michael Shea

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