i have a lump in my throat the size of texas. i do not know how to be stoic about anything anymore. i have so much energy that is writhing within me and needs to get out, but i have no means of expelling it.

i am a child.

so it goes.

the end.

it's the little things...

people are [slowly] starting to take notice of my stuff on virb! yay!

let’s strip to our bones and feed our skin to the woods-
it’s easy to forget about our eulogies we found in the sky when our hands are still clasped this tightly.
and without reason, we’ll run until the hills trip and snatch our bodies.
red with clover, spoiled by the sun, tongues vibrating like tightly wound string,
we’ll throw our notes into the discord
and stir temporal mushroom clouds within the heads of the sleeping.

things break.

My two most difficult obstacles: patience and gratitude. I am trying to immerse myself in them each day, having patience for what never seems to come and gratitude what feels like nothing at all. And I keep telling myself, the inner workings of life fluctuate in patterns and movements and formations that are incomprehensible to me and that things will turn.

I keep telling myself this anyway.

“A single event can awaken within us a stranger whose existence we had never suspected. To live is to be slowly born.”

– Antoine de Saint Exupéry

it is the kind of euphoria only conducted within clouds;
the familiar discourse that runs through the cracks in the skin;
the solitude only found in the vacant swells of battle fields.
it’s the breath that vibrates through the rolling hills of white, white sheets.
it is the flushing, the blueing, the pungency of every colour
mixing in the transit of the night.

I wrestle with Sundays. There was line between appreciating all of happiness’s past-tenses and wanting them back, but I erased it. I’m a pirouette of staggering spirituals, bound to the details, drinking tea in a desert. My direction is subliminal, but it might be better to be wayfaring than a forgotten number. I just wish the curtains would ghost up and tell me what to do.

[photoshop may or may not be my forte. i’ll bank on not so much.]

“You need music, I dont know why. It’s probably one of those Joseph Campbell questions, why we need ritual. We need magic and bliss, and power and myth, and celebration and religion in our lives and music is a good way to encapsulate a lot of it.”

and if there was light