When the cold rain enters it makes me remember lifetimes of past Decembers and their nasty embers. Each drop a designer momentary reminder of a recreational resigner's unchecked timer. I am not reborn in the rain's misty scorn I see Satan's horns in rain clouds formed.
Sensory recall makes me fall into the needle of a lifestyle fetal crying for my mommy of a ****** haunting my past life is flaunting through raindrops upon me their ripples are bombing my mentality modeling of the unguarded godly.
Inclement in descent in cement mixed with saline so I may dream maiming Maybelline makes me made to scream drowning in memory separating what's ahead of me with the possible death of me after a moment of leveling water brings devil's wings.
I guess I'm like this forever mainlined or severed would've been much better than stuck in the nether between order and chaos mortars of raindrops show where my aim lost and the insane cost of the water in the syringe raining into my veins so I cry and I cringe when it rains all the same.
Go somewhere else where I can see you Smile Go somewhere where there's light on the Leaves Somewhere where there's the calling of Geese Where their clamour floats like plankton through the Breeze And you are sitting under the linden Tree On the spot where you feel most Safe Between two big Roots Wearing Mother's Coat
They invite you to dwell on nothing and everything at once. Oddities that soften the sounds that surround you and amplify the beat of life in each breath you take. Far from strangers but hidden in plain sight. Indulging your focus through a narrow tunnel view. Dilating your pupils and lifting your skin through spontaneous extraordinary sensory awareness while depriving you the passage of time. A temporal trap in eternity before you snap and walk away.
Eyes are sensory organs They receive what's fed to them You read what brain read of them Beauty doesn't lie in beholder's eyes The blind can appreciate beauty Despite the eyes failing in duty Eyes are no repositories You guys to churn beautiful and ugly
This candle is honey and vanilla scented, But it’s so much more than just some sweet savory smell It smells like 2:00 am on a Saturday laying on the carpet with my best friends Laughing about everything and nothing Not wanting the night to end Pumpkin pie smells like a chilly October day back in 2008 When we sat on the couch in front of the fireplace And everything felt okay Isn’t it strange how you can travel back in time? All you need is a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg And suddenly it’s Christmas 2009 when my heart felt light and everything was fine