Domestic Limb? Foreign Limb.

Its odd

feeling a domestic limb

and thinking that it’s not my own.


Prodding it,

poking it in the hope,

that I will feel both sides;

the aggressive finger

and its reverberation on the

complacent skin.




It’s odd,

feeling a foreign limb

and thinking it’s my own.


I think that this person

is simply another an extension of myself.

What she does and has done,

is the same as what I do

and have done.

I think to myself.

I think of her

as a mini me

and become blind

to the fact that she is her own person.


When she is moving forward,

I warn her of the traps

that ensnared me on my road

But they are not necessarily present on hers.




But despite my confusion,

she is still her own person

and doesn’t think of herself

as simply another extension

of me and myself.


This creates a rift.

Which with one letter changed is a raft.

It is the raft that takes her

away from me and my island

and out onto the open sea.


I try to chase after my missing limb,

but running into sea water.

It shocks me

and when I look down

I realize I never owned that extra limb to begin with.


But not it’s too late,

she’s gone~


♫ : I wrote this while listening to Joe Hisaishi’s song Lost Spirit from the soundtrack of Porco Rosso.

2 thoughts on “Domestic Limb? Foreign Limb.

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