I know the light blue will carry us home. Our destination is hazy and it's blurred but we find it anyway. Our resting place is soft atop the unapologetically bare branches. A few times ago I'd have mistaken it for aggression as so seems the world when your heart and eyes and lungs are heavy but tonight I see its gentle pride. Warm light drips through the branches of tangerine love and our home is crystallizing in front of us. A cosmic show for no one but us and even we are not really the point. Slivers of glimmering truth fall away and it's natural to next see the paper mache love erupt into the black hole we had to know would consume us eventually. The stars are stuck in our throat and between our teeth and how can we be sad about the dark when we felt the entire universe pulsing inside us. I remember our beginning you know. It was dark and it was green and the sacred unity of it all brings tears to my terrible mutilated face. The bench is cold and the night is cold and I am cold but I can't bring myself to disentangle my soul from the electric night. I will sit here all night and lose feeling finger by finger if it means I can remember the way we were.
Sometimes it's eaiser to believe in some kind of of cosmic power
Like somehow a shooting star can change the course of who we are
And sometimes it's easier to make a wish on the 11:11 hour
Or believe some penny on the ground can somehow change a bad day around
And sometimes it's easier to search for four left clovers in a field of flowers
Than to accept somethings cannot be changed
Hoping for lucky showers cause
The reality is this:
We lose, and we fail, and we greive
And No matter how much we wish, we pray we plead
We can only believe
Just let us believe
my heart jumps at the
cosmic grandeur of celestial bodies
sprinkled across the night sky,
twinkling above tents and tired souls,
it wasn’t until i left the city that
spirited, silvery stars
were sewn to my heart
What would you do
When winter comes
The breeze blowing cold
And you have no hand to hold?
What would you do
When the flowers bloom
And the world comes back to life
But you feel like dying inside?
What would you do
When waves come back to the shore
And you have no clue
Where home is anymore?
What would you do
When dead leaves pile up
And everything that falls
Gets caught except you?
The years have passed
The seasons too
But if you feel stuck
In the same old place
What would you do?
Most of my life is a forgotten cliffside. There's nothing you can really do about it, it's just the consequence you pay for being alive.
I don't remember a lot of my childhood. I can remember my schools, my friends, my parents, my teachers. But I don't remember my sisters. Only my brother, the little boy carrying the family name on his shoulder blades... But he is not ready for that.
As for my sisters... I do not officially "know them" until they begin to leave. I was 11 when they started leaving my house, and 13 when they started re-entering my life.
There is no excuse for arriving late to my life crisis. But what crisis is there anyway?
I grew up alone.
Sisters too old, brother too young, parents too protective.
Too eager to run through the halls of my early life, and high school is not what I expected the years to be. But I am still here... alive.
And there will always be that to hold on to when the sky falls from the stars that pin up the rest of the universe.
Or the the clouds fall from the blue sky just before that cliffside collapses into the abyss.
This is the artistry that is my life on a power surge. Feeling the shock of the first kiss, and the break of the last word.
The many voices, and single sayings. The before and after. The push and then the fall.
The feeling of all my memories being shot.
But not killed.
This is the joy of living off of the electric tower... or the Eiffel tower.
This is life made wild, love made public, friends made family, me made whole again.
Me surviving the cliffside fall for the 378th time this week.
Safety nets were never written in the fine print of this circus act.
But this feeling can kill as much as it can save. It is, and always will be a cosmic shot across the front of my skull...
Opening my mind into eternity. Until I decide to go back to that cliffside...
in the infernal uproar of possibilities when the universe halted an alternative course of movement (to which eternity might be possible in a cosmic place as a confirmation congruent to a derivative of consciousness), there lies an ephemeral mind; at a certain point in time being, who thinks that everything will be plausible in a galaxy of transcendence.
if a particle moves alongside this ephemeral consciousness to which it caused a disturbance, every particle of the latter might be in flux.
[you are that particle]
and if and when, in a conscious state of space and time you sporadically moved and pulled the orbit to which i constantly managed to retain the equilibrium, then should the universe permit us to drift into the internal immobility of togetherness, we became infinitesimal--
but only through the metaphysics of time being.
[at least we had]
Barren trees are beautiful before snow melts;
Clouds constantly cover sunlight somewhere
In the world. What wonder do the stars hold
Even without sight? We seal these eyes of ours,
Glazed with gluttony, so sinfully tight. Come,
Unforseen secrets dance just beyond our plight..
See me in a mountain of petals
That I push under the rug
Just like the feelings I hide
To save me from falling further
I'm muffled coughs and aching chests
A personification of the spring
Heart blinded and suffocated
By the beauty that is you
Dawns are spent in bathroom stalls
My heart worn on the soles of my feet
Cursing the ache of what cannot be
For loss and longing, entirely
He loves me not, the law repeats
For what it's worth,
Don't spare me the humanity
Only in death shall I forfeit
Forever my heart in camellia sheets,
Forever for you it tries to beat.