No Bad Habits Here

No Bad Habits Here

Something so deep to the bone of my psyche

Burnt away a hole

There is no more blood to bleed

Just the remnant ring of red around this wound

 No longer vague

Free from the obscurity of clouded emotions

Plainly in sight

Like a mute black cave

A black hole

The lingering void of childhood’s dependency

Right here under my very flesh

Under the contractions and elongations of movements

 

What can I do to re grow bone

Where the thought of bandages seems an illusion

This aint the place for ointment sand potions

Pure love

I need to give pure love, 100%

Free from tallies

Uncontaminated by guilt or anger

Infused with patience and understanding

Those things I know

Inspiration where to gather some

 

If that ring can grow into bone, I’ll know

I must remain in constant communication

Of the old wound’s habits

There no bad habits here

Just need for love and reassurance