place

There was must and mildew on the walls. Checkers and zig-zags etched into the cement, dank wall, almost making it pretty. If not for the horror down here it would be alluring, mystical and enticing. There will be no mention of this place because of the rumors, because of the judgements. There is no love for those places deemed illogical and whimsical. Only the forget-me-nots and odd balls inhabit this inhabitable place. But I won’t apologize for its darkness. I refuse to paint my brush of blue along the wall. It is not meant to be altered. To do so would insult its journey and evolution. To at last separate ourselves from our senses means perhaps for one snuffed out moment, we can truly love.

be so

He landed here and instantly was dispersed, into life, into its fragments and pieces. He was cast into feathers and stone and liquid to know their forms, fundamentally apart yet metaphorically cloned. For it was empty space that found the stagnant bodies lying helplessly in the muddied bogs. They had lost hope of ever emerging again, as themselves. And crystalline patterns stuck to sidewalks in the big cities, never noticing the waste in their own back yards. He balanced gently on each blade of grass thinking it couldn’t be so, this state of free will.

Missing....

tones

Notes like anchors on my skin. Landing, digging in and making themselves at home in my psyche. They carry me, wind me around the linearity of people’s thoughts and then dump me, crassly, to free fall unapologetically back to earth. Why do we fear the aftermath so much? Why do we side step every cause of it, even when the cause may be joy? Is it due to its fleetingness, its mockingly transitory nature? Do we calculate all great things by their longevity then? But nothing exists beyond the now. Nothing is as it is, it is merely what it will become.

>

Patiently waiting to be wowed with sincerity and intent.