i am an immovable object (or how i came to realize)

i am an immovable object
the world is...very profound.  
i think therefore i am. 
i wonder about a lot of things. 
i am under appreciated in my time. 
and what then of the roses? 
there is starry slightnesses all around.
why?  does it matter?
just know that it is and
therefore you are, therefore
i am...very profound. 

i am an immovable object. 
that is so and this is so. 
i break down into immovable parts like scales on a fish,
fleshy exhale, posing, puffed up, as catatonic water droplets are known to do. 
catatonic water droplets sent to sleep by a fledgling gravity. 
gravity that we all sleep into. 
(i wonder why the hell it stinks in here) 
my legs are warm from where the sun muscled over my being,
muscled over, thought over,
carried over the carriage of a broken hearted God's collar bone. 
yes, even gods get broken hearts. 
no one is above love. 
not even an immovable object. 
love is a force times a trillion to the power of four headed bulls racing through the throat of a dragon.  do you know your mythical measurements? 

you have to be present to understand this....is not for understanding. 
i have a fleece,        fleeting,        golden apple toting golden fleece folded mind. 
it whips up images that can only be described as truffles of cocoa brilliance. 
it's amazing what i can draft in a golden holy place
in the shade of some enlightened brain stem. 
but that's primitive--my rambling brain stem,
that's primitive--the clouds, the storm, the cerebral congestion, consecration, copulation
that's primitive--the cloud calling cowlicks that i espouse and the orgasmic dew i spew onto the page. 
i rambling child,
i undisciplined artist,
i crazy draw outside the lines, deranged, uncontained being. 
i primitive, i cocoa truffle, i golden fleece folded mind, i under appreciated girl.
i immovable object! 

am i an immovable object? 
i fit inside a bar of soap and i lather the world in perfumed happiness
so that we can be cleaned, squeaky and shiny
and able to accept that we are simply little flecks moving around (yes moving!) in a sneeze just starting to flair up. 
none of this matters. 
we all fall apart in the end. 
none of us are immovable objects. 
all of us are objects,
all of us are love,
all of us are clouds,
all of us are m&ms. 
and when we lose our hard candy shell and realize we're all nuggets of delightful cocoa on the inside, we can apologize for everything we've done to hurt ourselves,
to hurt one another. 
but m&ms don't have mouths and if they did they'd be drawn on the candy shell and
if we lost our shells then what can we do? 
be silent
and know we were right and wrong all along. 
right and wrong. 
loved and under appreciated. 
often at the same time.
but we were never, ever immovable objects.
and that's what makes it all worth anything.