we are the wild youth.
with lungs full of ocean water and ribs stained red with sunsets and roses
we have lilacs and honey dripping from our frozen fingertips
with watermelon smiles and candle wax eyes, we pull at our star dusted skin
and howl to the moon.
and with heads full of midnight and our veins swimming in twilight,
we dream our big dreams and pull down the stars, begging for our wishes to
come true
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 6:35 PM UTC
So many lines and laments
scribed in ink and feeling,
for the girl who is the ocean
but she is a swell and surge
too dauntless and wild,
for a lover whose bones crave the shore.
She craves the squalls and gusts,
and cast iron skies,
a worldly drift to sate the salt in her skin,
the deep pull of currents in her blood.
She is chaotic but not reckless,
she is fickle, but not feckless.
Love her boldly or not at all
her bones belong to the sea
but she will always return to the shore.
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 2:06 PM UTC
August is the dreary, immobilizing heat at the height of summer weariness
and languid romantics.
It is alone on the trail in the woods,
arms outstretched,
head thrown back,
against the pavement with sleep in mind,
arms outstretched,
a hand dangling over the edge into the pool.
It is feet dragging through the dirt below the swing,
back and forth,
beneath the dome of stars and the hazy mahogany clouds sauntering past the burnt hue of the nearly colorless sky,
and the heat lightning and the blue and green glow that rests upon the blackened treetops that surround you on all sides
on a canoe in the middle of the lake as mosquitos nip at your skin,
but you care little because you feel just about as small in comparison to the universe as they do in comparison to you,
and you wish that you were as hungry to bite at the world beyond the horizon's trees as they are.
They ***** your skin for the blood that lies beneath it.
You only wish you had the courage to strike the earth.
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC