Everyday

I shed a layer of my own understanding

about who I am

Like unfolding an intricate origami

till it is a blank sheet

with creases, fingerprints

and a faint memory of sublimity

I’m navigating through the process

of unlearning most things

that come naturally to me

numb smiles, habitual rhetoric,

perfected pretense under clogged breaths

Everyday

I offer a little absolution to all the

furious gymnasts in my stomach

somersaulting ferociously

for the fear of falling

The more I read about artists, poets and thinkers

who nourished in the poison of history

till their veins turned into

applauded art pieces,

the more this body empties itself—

once a universe, then a temple,

home, rehab, room, corner to

now a barren land

where nothingness blooms steady, still.

This disintegration is a calling

of sorts. Charmingly uncontrollable.

I fold and unfold

meaning to meaningless

fear to freedom

structure to storm

sacrament to stillness

pain to peace

Everyday,

I come undone

Layer after layer

Oblivious to the forbidden

the fruit,

the root,

the garden.

I become my unbecoming.