Sarcolemma Hugs

At the end of the rat race worship

Stage of all, to each their own

Some water to sweat,

Some tears to wine,

No questions asked, 

I no longer wonder why.

Mind and body at still, at last

Muscles come to rest

Supported on all fronts and backs

As I want to be.

Silence is a myth,

But I can settle for less

In a room where no visitation granted

My space, my air,

Near-uninterrupted sleep,

Relief of emptiness equal to freedom from things.

And yet time comes

When after-hours solitude

Becomes too much

Then – I remind myself 

That if no one cares to wonder of my existence

Be it a phone call, or a simple “hi” text,

My body, through my muscles, hugs itself

On millions of levels

From skin to sarcolemma,

Tight with purpose,

Ever at work, 

(whether I’m at or not)

Silent in vibration of life.

In that silent hug enterprise

I smile to the air in the dark.


the image was copied from Wikipedia and butchered by me. thankyou.

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