I might dare to paint love one day.
Or draw it. I haven't played around with paint much.
But when I imagine it put to paper its painted so perhaps that's the better medium?
Something about the brush strokes perhaps? Those little tiny lines but all having their own existence.
Their own job in being part of the final picture.
love is usually shrouded in reds and pinks and whites.
But that's not what I see.

When I close my eyes and try to imagine those feelings taking shape
Putting on clothes to present itself to the world

I see dark blue hues and sort of a glitter all over a black background
and the glitter isnt regular glitter but the glitter of the stars late at night out in the country when they blanket the sky.
And theres purplish colors ranging from the deepest purple to tiny streaks of the lightest pinks, and greys and whites and golds and earthy greens.

Every color that's rich and deep.

and theres this constant, ethereal movement. Like a dream.

Slow like the clouds floating lazily across the sky on an easy day. And theres a small white gradient around the edges to sort of make it glow...

I'm beginning to think love looks like a far away planet?

Ominous and beautiful
And it's corny, but I feel like we're our own little world.

Time in mind, the dark was approaching unhurriedly, surely as promised obsessively coming for us.
Slithering slowly, hearing their deafening screams in violence, violently breaking  the silent silence.

I then saw it , in the depth where it sprung from
I lost my consciousness and began a rebirthed walk to the abyss of absence.

My familiar mind a stranger as the decay journeys to the my souls core
It singes to past lives, happiness now a adjective only in dreams i confess.

Standing in the middle of nowhere
I remember that at the end of this dusty road, there are poor lights flickering
resembles my insides because of old times
(Oh! why is it still lingering?)
Spelling 'I knew it! They're lying!'
Using cryptograms as dancing lights to disguise the warning

And now i'm back in this alley
When did these things started bleeding the royal color?
backwards, i'm walking in roses and rubies and crimson reds from myself and really?
what's with these shattered glasses?
I think it's lousy to hide the lilacs and blue tulips within

Violets and blues are not blurring my views
It's like the red and green of my worlds i made up for years
these places are soft like the grasses where you lay down after a pouring rain
and a pavement where you sit after the april sun shines on it
I'm lost in the the way it could go back and forth

And behind these places is where i'm really a part of
is a fever dream even with the daylights on
A forest that is made with hollywood signs
Hazy, defeaning, pretentious but real
A storm in mid-september that is going on for years

The world is healing
As our worlds are crashing down.
But someone has to fall
So another can wear the crown.
But even if we have to resort
To eating beans and rice,
Isn't having a healthy earth
Worth the sacrifice?

I was watching Worlds—
Worlds far removed from mine.
They dissolved my notion of Import
along with my concept of Time.
I was watching Worlds—
Worlds far removed from mine.
I saw our disconnection
our thoughts have made us blind.
We're lost in Worlds inside of Worlds,
within Worlds made in our minds.

Endings a new Beginning
Beginnings of an End
Is it all a loop
Or just a straight line that never Ends
Ending of the world
Or just the End to Yours?
Just the Preamble
Or now the Revolution
I'm not sure of much Anymore
But I'm sure of a Thought
That this is the Ending of Worlds