Painter sits down
Strokes sun light dipped in moon light upon fjord.
Crystalline blood blooms from valley.
Bird flys high in the sky.
Wind speaks for the earth.
Splish
Splash
The waves crash amongst each other like uncontrollable dominoes.
In the forest
Alone are the spirits
Wolves and deer stand restrained by there own silence as the golden sun rises.  
The painter redips his brush.

Faces stuck like sticky notes to my face.
Tear drops falling off of my dry iris.
Layers shedding like peeling deseased skin.
Memories washed and chopped.
Boiled and broiled.
I while the world goes deaf cry at the bay of my mind.
A sensation of awkward emptyness collects inside me.
The wind blows around inside of me like a wirl pool.
Spiraling upward and out my mouth.  
I am hallow shell on the bay of my mind watching the never ending sunrise

We rustle black leaves with the trot of our feet. Our fleeting feet stumbling against the exhale of death.
We tripped.
We fell.
And all was swell.
Right before our last inhale.
Then we went pale.

let it come.
let it hit you as hard as it may.
let it sting; heartbreak always does...

then let it go;
you are stronger than this grief.