this never ending baggage i collect 

the memories i hoard  

these stones in my suitcase

are heavy hands clinging to my ankles 

begging me to remain in what was 

distracting me from what is  

and making it impossible

to get a glimpse of what will be.

this never ending baggage 

packing to leave before i’ve settled 

my eyes adjusting only in time

to register an outline of the scene

blood has just begun to circulate

before i am forced outside 

back into the unbearably frigid womb

of everything that i don’t know.

i could light a torch 

alas, each second it burns

a stone makes itself at home in my suitcase 

relishing in the sight of me squirming 

i shiver until i can’t distinguish

between my own vibrations

and the dull rattle of the universe’s hungry stomach.

it’s untraceable echos  

are loud and possess an inexplicable weight

that partners well with the stones in my suitcase 

i wonder 

where is there space for these echos

these vibrations, these rattles ?

my suitcase is crammed full of these fucking stones 

they sit immobile 

just as i do 

unable to move with this suitcase 

this suitcase that goes with me everywhere

yet sees no new places 

these stones in my suitcase.