midsummer intertwining flying to the sun
Still in aeroplane mode...mellow. :)
We own a pond;
mottled bluebottle, flecked in freckles when the sunlight skims the surface between the moss. I dip a finger inside and stir. A nebula swills, swirling like a whisk of spilt oil from a water spot sometimes found underneath a car. My fist plunges in, embalming a gulp; moss bandages around the orb that, withdrawing in drips, I see a new world set alight upon it.
1. a film or incrustation, usually green, produced by oxidation on the surface of old bronze and often esteemed as being of ornamental value. 2. a similar film or colouring appearing gradually on some other substance. 3. a surface calcification of implements, usually indicating great age.
Painted glass windows, sequined tapestries
Rainbow coloured dreams drowned, in Monochrome miseries. The women wait and weep, a phalanx overcome by grief Squinting through their candle-light visions, Understood by misunderstood legions. Fastigium Ataxia, She cries in pain, Rotating consciousness through the colourless rain. A patina of grief wailed above the room as The woman let out her final cry, A martyr in their eyes. Skinship visible through lonely cracks in subfusc walls The infamous neighborhood remained vacant that night The family lost a member that night. A paegn concerto, (Someone lost a shoe) The women hung their heads in grief (Somewhere bloomed a new leaf).
Stepping on the corpses of all you've known
trekking through the field of bones the sirens sing, green angels with broken wings like a desolate future, in need of suture I see a patina on everything, rustic brains you can always find some sign of life for there is always life within something rose still exist among the filth and **** there will always be beauty in the lies and in the truths that flow through our mouths
You will want to come back one day
Like the crashing of a waterfall Hard yet soft at the same time With variations in light Swirling, reflecting off the water You will want to come back one day Like a butterfly on a journey Flying high, steadfast Silhouetted by sunlight at dusk Elegantly shinning You will want to come back one day Like a trees search for light Extending it's branches directionally Frantic to find the missing sun You came back one day Patina beautiful, aged gracefully Like the floors in our home Beautifully antiqued like our lives
— The End —