bouncing ideas around

i know i live in the bible belt. i know my mother would endorse it, i suppose i should attend church this sunday. But this is my sanctuary. Here in the oxygen, reveling in the light, becoming the corpse of structure and the embodiment of pleasure. Where light rubber meets pavement, and metacarpals twist and readjust with each, minute, stupid, rhythmic movement. And i run. Beat, beat, beat, beat, step, step, step. Breath, breath, breath, breath, Gasping for the infinite and taking it in each 2.5 seconds, and losing it, over and over again, making it all the more precious. Losing and gaining, inhale and exhale. Becoming almost comfortable with intense gratification and suddenly losing it before you even accept it. Enjoying the consonance just as much as the dissonance, the yin like the yang. like intercourse, like suffocating, dying and being reborn repeatedly until the entire human experience is engrained metaphorically into my function. And this is my worship. The Genesis and exodus of all things happens here, in my lugs, in my own tissue. And that means sanctity i think. a god is in within my tissue and i worship my own anatomy. Not only am i falling at my own feet, but on them, using them. I will salvage this power from within my self and love myself for all that i am and am not. for every freckle hair allllll the curve, all the angles, every scar, tendon and magnificent coursing of blood throuch each tiny tunnel and out through the cavities of my aorta! and i will let the salt and moisture pour down my most beautiful face until it cannot take it anymore because i can! i can! i will move and use my body because i can! mobility! catharsis! pain! sanctuaarrryyyyyy!!!