warmlights

All from one flame, divided into four, the separated entities are all the same and birthed from the original singular, but each burns different wax, with different colors and different scents. But they all cast the same glow. They make up my consciousness. 

idlenotes

Tearing away the views of the surface, downdowndown the void hit the bottom and dwell there make your garden make your mark and laugh along the red red birds.

dirtyparkedcars

I wrote on that car and I promised them that they were loved. And although I did not know them, their friends, their pasts, their futures, i knew this to be completely and unabashedly true. Their faces did not matter. Their clothes did not matter. The very van that I traced on did not matter. All that mattered was their ability to know and understand the absolute certainty my finger had when I gave them that part of me.

secretskies

As we lay on our backs, we stared at the same sky. The brightness pierced us, but the clouds drew us in, enveloping us into their blue grace. They absorbed us, and erased any need for physical speak. Our minds we're enough, wandering and wisping like the gods above us. The prickly grass beneath. Our eyes wondering the same things, reflecting one another, they didn't need to see to understand. But cut too short. Like everything always is. And so we left the field that we had just spilled onto, with our messy thoughts and lives. And when we got up, we had to collect ourselves again, put ourselves back together to be accepted back into the society that is always in our peripherals.

listen:

Once you break free from those chains, do not drape them back over your wrists and pretend to be like the others. Explode into the awaiting sunlight and never be quiet again. Meet the few others amongst the clouds who have come to their Full Realization, and live with them, be with them, breath with them. Do not hide who you are and who you will be by preconceived thoughts and cliches. Look at what is happening and what will happen, but do not plan it. Do not spell it out for others to see and understand. Look into yourself and who you want to be and use that as your guiding hand. Let your dreams take you where you may, for they will never lose hope.

decisions

Distanced from the world; seeing it all through a thin, filmy membrane from which I have to decide this: Break through? Or stay safe. Protected. Alone.

2am

Watching the world fly by in non-descript tree tops and blue grey sky. Feeling the soft fingers running through my hair, cautiously touching the ridges of my ear, and then back again. Hearing the nostalgic yearnings of a lost life, but never a forgotten one. Thinking dim thoughts, enjoying the moment I know will end soon, but ever hoping for more. Getting chills whenever his skin touches mine. Be still my heart. I need you to not be in my throat so that I can breath.

doublesided

Hold the gaze that melts our waxen, and let the tears form and fall. Allow the transaction.

expressions

And I want to come across the secret garden that is your mind. I want to hear and sing with the birds. I want to climb the trees and see for forever. And I want to find all the burrs and weeds that are growing and established, and pull them out with my bare hands, regardless of the thorns. And then I'd water the thirsty plants, giving the flowers and fruits their fragrance. And there I would stay, nestled in your thoughts and hopes, tending the wilderness within.

trainwhimsy

So old, and has no possessions. Sitting quaintly in his chair, he quietly accepts his deepening wrinkles. Me with my sprawling belongings, running from city to city to give myself the illusion of permanent escape.

carpet

I could lay in the back of your car and let the soothing smell wrap itself around me and take me away. Away to memories of escaping. Away to moments of eternal laughter. Away to moments of the soul screaming out. And the comforting uncomfortableness of the rough carpet would imprint itself on my skin as I closed my eyes and curled up like a prawn from a beating and roaring ocean. Brief flashes of thought would reassure me. Smiles. Glances. Diffused reality. All fundamentally the same. And there I would lay. Who would join me? Would anybody who cared to leave the washed out world behind? I suppose there's only one way to find out. But there, there we would keep the secrets of the world between us. Safely tucked away in sleep.

pastsonplanes

Reading the Prophet: It seems like everything so far on love, giving, eating and drinking is a wonderful practice and guidelines for people to consider. But they don't. Nobody that has it is grateful for food anymore. Marriage is torn apart because of intolerance, and are too overprotective of their children, repeating the process of inability to work out the problems rationally. So they replace their parents with MTV and Seventeen magazine, Sex in the City and Fergie. Humans used to be in a sea of emotion and thought, but are now stuck in airplanes, only seeing the top of the ocean, with the barest thought and comprehension. And only a few of us are willing to fuck the lifejacket and jump off the plane.

In theory, so many things are good, and what Kahlil Gibran says is the best of it all. But it doesn't seem to matter anymore. It's all been lost in the ocean. 

rambles

Constantly need Noise. Need somebody to accompany me as I sit and ponder things. So Noise sits next to me and holds my hand as I run through my passages. Sometimes Noise doesn't let me get any further, standing in my way. And so Noise always wins, and stares Silence down.

thoughtsinspain

And I thought about all the different times you looked at me, with thought in your eyes. And I pictured it, to remember. And then I thought of moments of you, with you. And then I thought and pictured all of the times we held together, to reassure reality. And then I thought of the very last time, and then the song ended, and I opened my eyes. The dull grayness.