Rushes that come with risk: some, get that with money some, with the market coming out the other end somehow exponentially better off
For me the buoyant thoughts of all the possibilities open coming out the other side I do by gambling love by tossing in intrepid change by bluffing emotions by raising mortal risk This is the life worth gambling for This is the life I worth living
The Fearful, step aside there are tides I need to ride
The bible in my hand feels far too heavy. I open to a random page, and realize that, although it would make grandma happy, I will never read it. Still, when I sit down at the piano here, I hear divinity in the music. When I smoke **** on the hill outside, and look up at the stars, I feel the excitement, the awe, of being a tiny part of something infinite. So who is their God to disapprove?
I know the code to get into a church, and they have this beautiful piano so I play music in there a lot.
What is this? Mom, quickly, please tell me! It's fluffy, and falling from heaven! Reminds me of insects or petals but sparkles like little white crystals – so bright and incredibly pretty. I have to now, instantly, get it! What is this thing? I simply must know! Mom! Dad! "Honey," "Dear, this is just snow."
So cold was today, gloomy and grey that none of my friends wanted to play. Now it's all fluffy, snowy outside— there's no way I'm staying inside!
about the excitement of seeing snow for the first time
A slight huff descends at today’s candy cane pic. Those abstract blues, lost along with childhood, of time moving way too slowly. Still a whole week of school to go, stretching vast like an ice shelf, with only a hint of impossibly brilliant things in the far, far distance
Who knew life would last so long. so tedious and constant in aging. ( birth - one - two - … - dead ) And if someone knew how long it would last, Why would they sign that contract, on the dotted line on an oak desk with all too important looking business men greedily grinning. (the devils favorite disguise)
Who knew of the beating of the heart- so exciting and focused on one lovely face. (or set of lips) Like a party with a spinning bottle, Soon to be the pulse of the first date. And first night cashed in bed, rolled over from exhaustion- excitement. (a steady rhythm takes on different meanings here)
Who knew that words would be so tough. so damnable and lackluster (until they line up just right.) And poems a love-hate-multi-night-stand. where we always bicker and fight, but always come back for one more line. or in my case, nothing at all.
writing seems to be increasingly hard and unbearable- although just as excitable and confounding as always. I guess somethings never change, although even that fact I doubt.
also, found a new poet whos style I'm currently in love and awe of- next poem will be about them.