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Mar 2014
may your body lay completely still as you're so calmly in the position that let my incorporeal being become a living apparition but i'm afraid i can't stay and i'll leave the way i came with your window curtains blowing in the breeze and your feet barely sticking out from your blanket. the night is as dark as day and i'm colder in your grasp than i ever was drowning, and if i reside into an ocean, please don't tell the moon where i've been. tides will turn into cyclones and hurricanes will erupt volcanoes and i pray that no amount of destruction should wake up the thing i wish to touch the most. to whatever god who watches me during my nomadic and agitated disclosure, i hope he sees wind in your pillow sheets and the sound of cracked branches against their own brethren, falling to their death upon wooden decks; one might say, coming back home. if i reside into an ocean, just don't tell the moon where i want to go. you dream of places so far from reach that your fingers feel them on typewriter keys and doorknobs you wish you could open. i see locations off of the perimeter of your coastal psyche and i'm lost on beaches with trees as rivers and the sky as the only familiarity ground that i've ever known to walk on. nothing happens when your blood is rushing and your feet are moving if you have no sense of direction in the currents if you're not swimming and most certainly if you're not drowning. if you reside into an ocean, i'm never going to sail your seas and find what i've been missing. the pool you're creating inside your stomach leaving way to millions of tiny mementos in your pit, and you're still trying to convince yourself that you haven't been dreaming past your third birthday. blue doesn't ever want to see red but it seems to be just fine intermixing the two to a hybrid vermilion from under your skin and if you think that is going to make any significant difference under trenches larger than your mind then **** it, if you reside into an ocean, the moon better not know where you intend to go.
wake up. you’re suffocating again.
ba
Written by
ba  Seattle, WA
(Seattle, WA)   
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