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stream of consciousness

By Kristen BalyeatPublished about 6 hours ago Updated about 2 hours ago 3 min read
photo by yours truly

i am gulping rain straight from the sky and feasting on color-drenched sunsets

i am completely undone by wonder

i am pressing into ocean shores, breathing in the tickling mist of waves as the sand devours my feet into its unseen world

i am splintered and thorned open by blackberry bushes, wearing their rouge juices on my lips

i am chasing the wind and wielding it to snarl my hair into a wild ratted nest of bliss

i am lazing in tall grass whispering poems of adoration to the silvered moon, wooed by clouds, and lit-up by stars—transporting the cosmos into my heart through the open gate of my curious eyes

i am plunging in rivers, curling into cool bursts of currents pulsing against my soft belly

i am tangling with life

i am throwing myself into lakes—splaying my cold limbs, a salamander on sun soaked rocks

i am a feral body dragging my hands across cracked-open tree bark, lapping up sap, telling secrets to trees, and catching sharp stones in my supple soles

my hunger for joy cannot be satiated

i am drooling over shells and pocket rocks, gathering them and sprinkling like glitter across every surface

i am hypnotized by dewdrops flashing in the morning light, fog spilling through spiked pine

i am gasping at neon rainbows until the colors dissolve in the blue horizon, straining for every last fading watercolor flicker

i am spellbound by the lines in my skin, formed where joy and pain have etched their story

i am unleashing my hair to grow wildly worshipful of the passing of time

i am sinking in baths until the water goes tepid, my fingertips shriveling like waterlogged fruit skin

i am cracked anew by the rush of goosebump rising in the chill of the shade

i am electrified with enchantment

i am burying my face in ecstatic delight, laughing ridiculously loud and free

i am rocking babies and chasing wonder and whimsy and love

i am chatting up the elderly and cradling the hands of the dying

i am witness to memory and moment

i am tousling children’s hair and locking eyes with strangers

i am smiling at everyone just to collect their shift in happiness deep in my mind‘s eye and save it for days of deficit

i am barreling through fields, whipped by weeds and stepping on prickle bushes in ecstasy

i am filling my lungs with the smell of everywhere: the cedar forest, the briny fish market, my neighbor’s smoke-thick grill, fresh-split coffee bags, the sweat of my lover, the iron of winter, the petrichor of spring, the cut-grass drenched summer air

i am digging my nose deep in rhododendrons and jasmine until i’ve sucked up enough pollen to spark a sneeze

i am striking flame to candles and bonfires, swallowing wine

i am tearing through words, scribbling pages raw with pens and pencils—devouring books and poems and songs

i am living the art

i am adorning myself with daffodils and azaleas, and wearing a crown of unhinged happiness

i am unlocking my hips and my bones, unwinding crystalline fascia and allowing my openness to flood with all that is light, delicious, and good

i am confessing to bees and beetles and crows and singing off key

i am rescuing spiders and chasing dreams

i am letting absurd optimism surge through me—delirious joy

i am blasting out compliments like a fire hose and soaking in the shift in human energy

i am painting my toes bright and letting the earth’s dirt color my fingernails

i am bursting open

Stream of Consciousness

About the Creator

Kristen Balyeat

Words fly to me on the wind, bump into me as I'm strolling the city, splash me in the face while I rest by the river, and shake me awake in the middle of the night—I’m humbly one of the vessels they use to come to life.

Also, i love you:)

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