simple shade can go such a long way but also much too far sometimes. my bones are brittle without sun. will you take a walk with me?; to obelisks? they won't run.
i bought you a shady spot right here. last year was not as overgrown as this time's ever-changing clear view of a body of water that absents the sky from our view, like a curtain rod suspiciously placed to cover things intentionally displayed.
did you bring a machete?; oh, the shade is much too much now for my brittle bones to take any longer and i always thought to myself, how lucky are we to have a place of our own but it's never enough for beings like us to leave a place like this alone.
i wish we could **** up the water with our tongues and watch as the roots and tendrils soak back in to the sponge cake layer; the mind takes it as an innocent prayer until the thoughts of after are sneaking and showing the tickles of veins spreading evenly over our bodies like the stains on my bedroom carpet.
it is my wish not to destroy this life that barricades my growth and hinders so much more about me. no, it is my wish to migrate it all inside my ribs like a house and despite all the splinters i know i will contract, allow it to permeate my flesh; a freshly signed pact.
the worst feeling in the world, to me is feeling stuck. it's worse than having to dig out the wheel in the limbs of sloppy rain, or the shock value of biting the inside of your mouth.
it's the opposite of the realization you have when you remember the mouth heals quickest; and then there is hope.
imagine the life path of dreams - with a lush natural fence on the threshold. one step over summons vines from under that lash and snag and gnarl and gnash and you're frozen stone: forest desert arctic all in one.
the stuck swallows me inside an imperial chamber that i am not in the slightest bit worthy to be surrounded by.
a perception of the world in your mind... it cracks, shatters, hiss, obliterated.
i welcome struggle into my arms as i go to the bittersweet valley below; maybe i will find the seeds that will allow me to grow.
you can look all around and see. you can touch you can breathe and hear. you can mostly control what you eat, but not everything you see or hear. when the words flow like glacial plains uninhabited but still alive because it moves. when the sights set like a stone curse locking my joints I can try to ignore, distract distractions, don't have to try to reminisce.
you can take the interest from the stars. you can give a break to someone who hurt you. you can sleep along the side of a body, but not the edge of a canyon. tracing a yellow alien and ourselves as a foreshadowing of what is to come, or dressing the dog up like a lobster and it wasn't even Halloween. people talk about the right way to live as if it's a one-size-fits-all but it's the yellow alien that we haven't met yet.