Wading Through
I will not censor part of me,
Which begs to be expressed,
Because it shatters the illusion,
And reveals the human mess.
There is no way around it,
Only the wading through,
Up to my neck in all of it,
It is all I know to do.
Perhaps I’ll sit a moment,
Just be with the stink and then,
Investigate bacteria,
Until I get up and move again.
I see all of you around me,
Also trying to make sense,
I can’t look away and decorate,
Or try to cover up the stench.
I do not mind the stopping still,
To have a look around,
Being with the shit that bubbles up,
Is the only way I’ve found.
To engage this life and all of it,
As it presents itself to me,
I’ll just use it as fertilizer,
Composting crap creatively.
–by me
Woman at Mud Volcano 2 by Natasa Prosenc
sometimesihatemycat 
And you should not censor yourself – ever
Thank you, quite simply, thank you.
It is never necessary. The pleasure is mine.