Coral Hull: Prose: Vegan, Vegas: 47. of slapping myself on the cheeks, of getting a grip on my life

I MACKENZIE KNIGHT I A CHILD OF WRATH A GOD OF LOVE I FALLEN ANGELS EXPOSED I

CORAL HULL: VEGAN, VEGAS
47. of slapping myself on the cheeks, of getting a grip on my life

i often feel emotionally shocked, everything is felt in an intense way, the backyard shrubbery is an immense landform, i need to process, to sort information, to scan & pick up on it like radar, i stare often, my eyes are widening to receive the sun, have become a lighter shade of brown, it's like an australian desert inside, a gibber stone plain, is it alright to be like this?, yes, i am okay, often, the problem comes in judging myself, i fear my physical dismissal from the earth, but i'm only changing inside dramatically, my shoes grip my feet as i walk, my clothes grip my body, i am rooted to an earth with hips that sway like mountains, it's a matter of holding on & letting go, of slapping myself around the cheeks, of getting a grip on my life, i had lost myself until i was able to be alone, outback or down the back of the yard with the moths in the cabbages, or out in the old scribbly gum forest, along the qld dividing ranges in quiet australia, my hand comes to my mouth, where i chose to sit, there is distance as wide as desert between us, i had to become conscious of it

    

This website is part of my personal testimony that has been guided by The Holy Spirit and written in Jesus' name.

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