Ingmar Bergman scenes and Jewel’s poetic dreams figurative memes spilled like ashes across the page to be holy, unheavy, and alive is a granted feeling of being on high

Like God, he told me, only words get washed away if not kept sacred

Inside the blood and the host
irrevocably so
Whatever blindness calls itself
There was nothing left to be said
And so I dropped that filthy knife

Hot with the stain erased spilling on its face cooled by a star

I am not in the creator’s mind
I found the him within me

The ageism and the orientation of today’s world is met with chaos from the stories of so many...
How do we move on from such loss?

I don’t need new age *** or dates with the illusion of a soulmate that follow what the tarot’s say I need to make me happy today

I lost someone, I lost something, and that is enough to feel it.
We are not here to deny another’s pain

Death’s foreshadowing pretenses could never prepare for a dream
Filled with the hollowness of holiness and shallow breath
Makes a night of manipulation evaporate

A year later, I sang as I carried myself away
I went the mile
I walked to the depths
3 years later to the date
April 20th

The day I released all of the hurt I chained
To my self worth as a bad dream
As an epiphany of the love I wanted
Like a little girl
Lost and waiting on the front porch looking out towards the sky wondering when the truth of my own love would come
Someday..
To lose hope in intervals treading for reciprocity was the garden gate I needed to find myself anew

What I once feared was in me, was never in me and I yet the idea was at the same time

Strong diligence makes the heart grow that much more aligned to what creates your will, your beautiful will; a peaceful manifesto of a great new world