water makes sure you don't die of thirst
but too much of it, and you drown.
fire makes sure you don't catch a sickness
but too much of it, you burn.
land is the place we all make home
but too much of it, we get crushed.
air is what keeps us going indefinetly
and sure, it gets windy
but air is only harmful
when there's not enough
i'm falling in love with the breath of God thats releasing itself from your chest and blending itself with the filtered air coming from the fan beside our bed.
it's heavy and loud and it's in my ear, but something about the way it sounds, resonating in my peaceful casing, has me oh-so-enthralled with the way it's swirling in your lungs and coming out in waves.
you breathe with your core and i feel it.
your hand twitches on my thigh and i feel it.
it's so lovely—thinking about the air we're sharing. sometimes you take in too much air and it comes out in a snore, other times it's more than quiet and i have to make sure that you're breathing.
i hope you're always breathing.
and it's sad, but i think i'm falling in love with you.
my mind is a house of colors
the walls are splattered in paint
i’ve hung up diamond chandeliers
translucent—glimmering in the moonlight
splattering rainbows across the walls
maybe the paint is a figment of my imagination.
my mind is a killer whale
treading the dark foaming waters of the ocean
the great whites mock me
the great whites are listening.
i hide in the sea kelp of the great blue deep
the midnight shadows of the witching hour
caress my fins like wet rolling tapestries
endless running waves
racing like my own heartbeat
thumping like the longest drum line
my mind is a hollow cave
humid, wet, dripping water from limestone formations
strange echoes from within its depths
i can never understand the muffled whispers
but though they petrify others
they soothe me.
i have turned to salt rock
from all the untrue words my tongue has spoken
bitter, like salt on a lime
my mind is a dusty attic
rustic and beautiful to the creative eye
it has become an art room
with a canvas stand in the corner
and paint splattered across the dark wooden floorboards
beautiful arcs and painted glass windows
a pretty little white picket fencing
the mailman is sleepwalking
my mind is a dream
but i’m all too awake
and i’m unsure
as to whether or not
i’m living a nightmare
i am in love
with the in between moment
from when the boat
begans to sail
back to its home
i am in love
with the scene of the water
of how the sky is painted
in every color
and the water
shines in a silver light
i am in love
with the feeling of being one
with the wind
the feeling of the air waves
messing with my hair
i am in love
with the salt on my lips
and burns in my skin
with the taste of your kiss
and the smell of your suit
i am in love
with that in between moment
because when while the yacht
is cruising through the twilight
my problems are left behind
i am no longer
dizzy by the anger
dazed by my sadness
i am simply amazed
and in love
with the memory of you
and of that of the sea
and the dying sun
The rain came to California again this week
Suds left rolling in the gutters by travelling machines
Sky the pastel endless grey
A floating roof over my rainy gaze
We retreat a beaten foe to the warmth of fiberglass-houses
Turn on the electric fireplace in cozy winter safety
Collect our harvested thoughts to run streaming down
Windows that cheat the meaning of the rain
Speed limit increases naturally
Fear is present in heavenly droplets
Treads light on wet asphalt
Heightened risk of hydroplane
Had I not known better
It must have been holy water
Awash a world of life-greed beneath
I stepped outside and let it soak
Rushing truck splashed a deluge unto my coat
I play it cool.
your stories tickle me
in a bad way
in a way a person tickles you
a person, which you don't really like
i like you
but your stories
make me jealous
not of your life now
but of your life
you had before me
a life, you had without me
a life, i probably just made up
all in my head
a life, i fill with perfect images
everything was much more
i'm jealous of the sun you saw without me
of the air you were breathing
- fresh, clean, salty
the air which was so far
from the one that touched me
- dust and dirt
and while i’m jealous about
the sun, the air, the tanned bodys you saw
the dark lips you've kissed
will there be a time
when i’m the story ?
will our time together turn into
will fill with perfect illusions ?
way more perfect than it was
will the 'us' we created
fill some other girls head
with jealousy ?
and i turn around,
begin where i started to circle-
and i feel glad,
i'm filled with
because that means,
im still around
Having my head's in the clouds is what makes me happy.
I breath better and I feel as though I will live longer.
I feel free,
Which is something that I don't feel down here.
Down here is clogged up and broke.
The air isn’t breathable and everyone is fighting.
I want to live in the clouds and I know I can’t.
But I wish I could, it’s peaceful and that doesn’t happen down here.
In the clouds you can dream and you can hope
In the clouds you can believe.
You can be you and you won't be judged
In the clouds you will be free.
But I know that the air up there isn't breathable,
But I wish it was so then I will be free
of the hell from down below.