I have a flair for the strength living in words that are screamed
I have an obsession for the decibels of the lion
And when the strings that bind the pressure in your throat are cut

But sometimes you'll sit there in the corner and you don't say a thing
You say nothing
and
honey you are the lion

Your mouth is a glass of apples

We are siblings in a funny way
But siblings none-the-less
I do not know you
I do not know if I'll ever know you
But your soul exists somewhere and I will not do you the disservice of ignoring that
I wonder if we would have been friends
There is no way to know because the only way we could be connected by blood is if one of us didn't exist here
in the usual way existence is seen

It's just paved a different way I suppose
And I have to say I never realized this was an option
This particular method of existing with somebody
We always have had eachother
That makes me happy  
                              Love, love, love,
                                   Allison

I wasn't nervous
My cells were very calm
Very safe
Warm
And they loved me right then
& I wondered

The sultry of the sun at 7:00 pm
Turns my hair into a veil and my heart into the untouched lining of the pond
Not quite yet overflown

She looked dead into her core and by the string attached to it she gorged her raw organs through the things that gripped human to passion and the pressure of the friction moved more than mountains.

I love the sound of Spanish. The sound is embroidered silk.
The language of dark curls and dancing hips
Such a poise& finesse
Lathered in a rich, rhythmic butter but the words are quick & vibrant enough to snap out of it and flirt it's way into a perfectly sculpted sentence that holds itself with strength and beauty