sometimes, my legs become dolphins

[writingtherapy from the things]

sometimes, my legs become dolphins in the bath
each big leg, one big-leg dolphin
and not just, me imagining that my legs are dolphins (although, then that too, as an additional external layer, upon observation of what is being experienced)
but the remembering, the travelling, the… guidance…
immersive, yet naturally existent moment-feelings, when my legs become dolphins in the bath
all two of them, all all of them
yet i don’t know what it’s like to be a dolphin at all
even if i happened to relate to any part of dolphinness, i would still be relating from an i-am-not-a-dolphin This
and from and as non-dolphin-That
outside of dolphin, as un-dolphin.
(unless you’re zooming out of dolphins, in which case dolphins aren’t dolphins either, even when they are).
i don’t know what it’s like to be a dolphin at all..
but big-legs each know what it’s like to be a dolphin, each, when they are each dolphin in the bath.
does each big leg know what it’s like to be the other dolphin? does each other dolphin know what it’s like to be the other big leg?
does each dolphin know what it’s like to be the other dolphin?
can each of them know what it’s like the be their ownself dolphin?
without the other otherself sameself dolphin?
symbiosis is a requirement
symbiosis is an existent
we require symbiosis, we require other, we require self
and we collect, and become a separate,
that requires symbiosis, requires other, requires self
and we group, and become a grouped seperate,
grouped seperate of grouped seperates,
which requires symbiosis, which requires other, which requires self:
which requires non-us dissonance, othered, non,
and on and on and on and on…..
i do not know what it is like to be a dolphin
but my legs do, when they imagine they are
and each leg does not know what is like to be the other dolphin
but without the other dolphin they do not know what it is, a dolphin,
and each dolphin does not know what it is like to be what it is, a dolphin
and each dolphin does not know what it is like to be what it is, a dolphin
and each dolphin does not know what it is like to be what it is, a dolphin
and each dolphin does not know what it is like to be
what it is, a dolphin
what a dolphin is?

I keep losing and finding cups of water around the everywhere. i don’t remember filling them up, and then i don’t remember putting them down, but then it’s like they either all disappear or all appear at once, multiplying, ctrl+v repeat. and whenever i drink a cup of water my brain makes my arm turn into a cartoon popeye arm with a can of spinach, until i put the cup down, and then it reverts back into its body-arm self. 1 2 3 4 5 4 3 2 1, says the fingernail tapping. brrrrmmm, brr. brrrrmmm, brr. brrrrrmm, brr. saving the world. magical-thinking ego needs kicking like a crumpet. how good would that be, to kick a giant crumpet off the edge of the universe. giant kick. leg goes flying. inner-leg dolphins released into spacelands, pouring millions of tiny dolphin inners out into new planet-forming realms. crumpet still whole, like a punchable moon, disc-spin floating with overkicked knowing. strong. do you like marmite?
who am i asking here
i thought i was talking to a chatbot and nobody replied
.. oh.
also, i don’t actually care, so not sure why i emotion-focused on the oh-moment, for a moment, i maybe-think it was something in the bodymask’s way of saying ‘i would like marmite, feed me marmite’. it’s not going to happen, marmite is far away.

the spaghetti is over. i need to make the spaghetti not be over, again. unover the spaghetti. it’s been a while. potion-routines are necessities, if i am to fuel the this-existence body-creature thing. being in a bodymask is such responsibility. host to so many. to be in it while as it while for it while not-it yet it, is task, such task. such necessary task.

ohhhhhh how WONDERFUL, the ‘i hate u’ brainthings have arrived, like scrunched up balls of paper hurling themselves at tired bits of innerland wall. the goblin picks them up and reads every single one. absorbs it. fills their goblinself with it. and then neatly pastes it on the wall, using clear-drying sugarglue. and the wall smiles. ‘i hate u’ ‘i know :)’. this continues for a while until the cake-wall is ready to horizontal. and then it rolls into itself, rolls away with themself, leaving us with the sugarghosts of Was. acceptance involves all flavours. all-listening cannot ignore. it might multiply the kickers, and the throwers and the beurghghghg-ers, but… how else? the other option is to leave.. and the universe-things have already decided that i’m not quite ready for that, quite yet.

i feel resonance through my presence, more so recently – more frequently – physical buzz-waves like ‘whooshhhh’, where you feel like you’re being enveloped in universey death-seed energies, in a good way. (death in its positive form. dead-energies are so alive to me. i need more words for the splitting of the different ways i sense the word ‘dead’/’death’). i don’t know what it means, each time it happens, but i accept it, while it does, and intend not to meaning-make in those moments. try to listen – but, not even that. i try to with it be, if being wasn’t an action and was a *+*+. (remove the action of try, it’s not accurate.. each be word becomes do word when thing becomes word-word..) i allow it to sparkle-fizz over my creaturing bodymask. i allow it to over-absorb, to travel through, to travel through. easily pathologised as an obviously-provable vitamin deficiency or ‘maybe being a bit cold’, but it’s not like that – fizz-knowing is more evidence than any evidence anyone could write – fizz-knowing is more *+*+-ing than any explainers – and not knowing co-exists perfectly with all knowing. i don’t know what it means, but i absolutely feel-know what it is. explainers deviate-divert the is. “my boats are open, my boats are free…..” that’s what i feel while I non-wordily sing through energy-shapes in those magnetism-sparklefizz whoooshhh moments. within a human bodymask AS a human bodymask, it often feels the opposite – panic-boats in tight ropes, ravelling, squabbling, push-pull struggling.. but when the universe-things arrive: “my boats are open, my boats are free…..”, in non-wordy shape-song. not even a choice, just a happening.

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