e.motion

there’s this fear of
soppy
of too much saccharine ugh
or that thing now
right in the feelz

which makes that which feels
a thing that lives and exists
on its own
an unprotected entity
like a punchbag on a rope
ready to be hit at random
unexpectedly

while what we’re really after is
emotion
(I think, I hope)
those deep waves that draw you under
that vast ocean that is truly overwhelming
terrifying
exhilarating
never genuinely controlled

and always so unbelievably unseen
unless someone cries or smiles
howls and screams
falls over with laughter
breaks down in tears, weeping.

so many words
for one
not so small thing
that entails movement, motion
only with an ego in it, shortened to e
e.motion
the motion in me.

it is the ‘I’ in it
so vulnerable, so open
like a child naked on the lawn
running under the sprinklers
laughing and loving
without any care in the world
it is that once-known ‘me’
that makes us run and hide

when unseen motion erupts
out of the unknown dark
uncannily familiar
suppressed only so far
even a pressure cooker can only take so much.

how write it though?
that is the question.
how be at the center
of palpitations sacred to the slightest touch?

not quietly, never timidly
there is that demand
that everything be shown
not mimicked, but known

even the sticky parts
those tooth-achingly sweet
icky parts
that we all carry hidden deep down

in our cynical postmodern hyperreal
ever-connected
over-protected
lonely little souls

then again, one wrong word can ruin a whole scene.

it’s tricky
and mistakes will be made
oh, I promise
I’ve just started yet…

but then one must try
and find this voice
that speaks
of those ancient things
almost mystic
this crazy little thing
everyone calls el oh ve e
all this motion in so many me’s
.