Visceral

Seasons go by and I remain unchanged, for my legs you see, are rooted to the ground.
Words bypass action into supremacy over my body, but my pillars stand strong.
My ability to eat red meat, raw and bloody, ensures my survival making me more animal.

Friends and lovers are the spice of my uncounted years, taking precedence over myself.
Family is to blood as these words are to me and I cannot relinquish either easily.
I will never live up to the standards and expectations of those who came before, so I don’t.

My will, my soul , my very being stays in place and never moves.
Flexibility is taken advantage of when guard is down, and I cannot allow that to happen.
Time will slow and stop for me at long last, to rest from all this manipulation.

These fissures of my brain tremble with shocks while processed thoughts make their way.
I feel an aneurysm coming at each turn, one to knock me off this self-contained pedestal.
Awaiting rest from long rushed mindfulness to bleed on to crushed steps of my temple.