move a muscle, change a thought

I turn the obnoxious, arrogant voice down.
I turn the soft, reasonable voice up. 
I learn to surrender to the movement of myself.
I learn to battle the stalemate of cognitive dissonance. 

My feet dance the tile floor, cold in kitchen,
with eyes closed, feeling for marble countertop,
knowing I won't slam my ribs into it,
knowing I know the way.

Past the microwave, into the way,
where living room leaves to eating,
my flesh a fallible figure, not forever.  

Leaving my past in the garage,
I shake my way out of the sliding glass door,
leaving it open for lizards and limericks
to enter and annihilate me by morning. 

Spitting round and round,
I come to a standstill, look at the ground
and tell it I don't need it.

So, I float, leaving like a swimmer,
backstroke between stars,
burying my head in beliefs
that once killed me, but no longer limit. 

I am a pastoral goodbye.
I am let loose.
I am moving.
I am more than muscle and memory.