The immensity of any mountain

Holds me to no consternation.

I will continue to climb

Until I reach the pinnacle!

You make me feel invincible

Vedo la pace quando ti guardo.
( I see peace when I look at you. )

Credo nella tua pace per portare miracoli
(I believe in your peace, to bring miracles.)


Fatherhood

Questionable paths of multidimensional natures. Brought me lucid signs from the heavens, chaos,  and deciphered codes, perplexing mysteries to human eyes! To this new ray of light contained in this "life". Known as "Isaiah".

Beyond any amount of roaming doubts, I have spiritually reclaimed these portions of myself! Learning more from the acts and encounters with these  ritualistic, rhythmic, mesmerizing, colorful...mindless illusions called "DREAMS"

For being a "father."  To very this day

I must say,  I am on a wave. Floating with just the "gist" of things!

Barely, gaining an actual understanding

From the great 13 "the ways" of what it actually means.

My son as of now. You have 7 years in this lifetime on earth until your birthday returns!  11/27/15  I remain faithful in my beliefs, you will grow stronger than me and change something about this world!  For the details are covered in mind fog of my shadows following me, but it will be revealed to the light as movement flows with everything. Time will continue to conspire against us. You will find a way. To be our salvation. I am proud to be your father. I believe in you ISAIAH.

I S A I A H
Inspiring
Selfless
Ambitious
Inventive
Admirable
Healer

Nobody­ can prepare enough for a versatile role such as this.

The position as a mother.
The position as a father.


In the 9 months of her pregnancy I've doubted myself. Lost myself. Broke myself. Built and redesigned my "most-needed-self"  in functions through activities while in this phase of a "verbally-projecting insecurities." There were multiple factors that drove me on edge.

Not only the hormonal twists and turns spare me no justice. The weather always affected my cravings, for outrageous foods along with my mood.

I have had my highs and lows, solo-soaring in my head. This emotionally, over charged flight, ascending all from below to go above extreme heights!
Obviously, there is more to this!  Remaining as one of the central caretakers,  emotional support guide, or an active disciplinarian.  (When it comes for it...)  

If you don't have any love for yourself on any level.
If you don't value yourself like you should.
If you FEAR sacrifice.

Then surely, this is not the sport for you!

Love! Appreciate! Honor! Value! Believe! BELIEVE!  BELIEVE in our children of the FUTURE! Fatherhood have been teaching as well as providing insightful concepts equipped with understanding the depth our child's needs, knowledge and passion. Do not turn your head away at the chance to learn, while you are given a lesson on a daily, to grow with your loved ones while they mature into a man or woman because they will not forever remain as a baby.

Shouting it to the winds. Let the skies, immortalize my voice until the clouds fade!

Climbing mountains, moving mountains and triumph over the impossible continuously! For you without any constellation. You are the exact reason of how and why I feel that NOTHING limits me!

You are my sword and my enhanced armor of confidence!
No demon or obstacle limits me with fear.
I'll stand by your side right or wrong.

YOUR love, keeps me to stand and stay strong!
What does it mean to be a father???

The root of meaning...

Goes deeper than what I can summarize
To you mindfully or consciously...

For  I am still learning....
from you all....

When I met you, I was a draft.
An artwork to never be complete.
My eyes of charcoal
My veins of graphite
No color flowed through me for I was
Lifeless.

You opened up to me
You redesigned my thoughts.
Your paintbrush stroked a bright blush onto my cheeks
You turned me into
Bright pastels
With glorious indigos
Overwhelming scarlets
And mysterious lavenders.

You kissed me in a backdrop of
Forest greens.
You created scenery for
Every emotion,
Dressed me with rainbows,
And completed my blank spaces.
You turned me into a masterpiece.
But before you could sign your
Glorious painting
You realized
You could do better pieces
And pastel was over rated anyways.

Wishing to be a White Pine in Washington States,
where my happiness was redesigned with love, nature and humanity,
where food is a culinary ******,
and people  good representation of human beings.

I would like to enhance nature,
provide oxygen ,housing  to the kingdom of fauna,
and fragrance to the essence of earth.

Deforesting me is a common job
Exploited me is wood trafficking
Causing divesting consequences:
species extinctions, global climate change
damage of soil, and hazard of agriculture
Loosing me will impact other species,
Collapse of the entire ecosystem,
Understanding
keeping me alive is keeping you alive
killing me is killing you

not especially social,
just a couple of friends,
so our interaction qualifies,
special, very,
with sincerity I say,
fancy seeing you here

come and gone,
come back again,
restarting an engine,
that been redesigned
to be as simple as
you and me,
reader, writer

quit, here, brevity here,
but say out loud that word,
fancy
one mo' time

part fantasy,
special, very,
a poem read,
a fan friendship established
here, where words and eyes
intersect, a very fancy place...

I gause now it is clearly visible
Money makes the world go round…

Majority would sell their soul for the love of money
The money that would only last for their generation

Being creative is not a sin…
Copy and paste can cause damages that would take several decades to fix
Engineering was the for the reason
Though poor engineering design can cause some damages that can be redesigned and modified

You let it go and you will suffer
You intervene you are wrong you will be assassinated
You spread the word and get ignored…

Colonisation still exist Indirectly…
Now it’s even worse
Colonised by private individuals because he can afforded
They land were they can jus like a cat

They get to be protected
People get to be question and uncertainty answer are the…

Capital city road are in a mess
Foreign country benefits
The community suffer
Fuel price goes up at the same rate as traffic congestion

Closing all the freedom of travelling to work
Depression gets agrivated
Financial strain becomes a norm
Fools are enjoying the fruits

The greedy are on holiday
The investors are making more deals
The official know the bribery language better
The nation is falling down

The grow rate is stand still
More and more labour strikes takes place
The economy gets dragged on mud

Consciousness people are disappointed
Anger is boiling
Crime is going to increase
Drug use is a norm

Opportunist are flying like scavengers
Poor government is a shame
It also affect those who are not political

liquid crystal display
glimmering salacious self-imagery at you,
your lips parted and breath
staccatoing along, flitting just
behind the beat, like your aunt's
first dance at the wedding reception (before
she's had enough to drink) or
her last (when she's had
too much)
she was in the passenger seat
on our drive homeward, leaning in
to the driver's seat conspiratorially,
oblivious to your beauty splayed out
exhausted in the backseat.
"she's my
baby niece, and you better not
**** with her
heart, you hear me missy?"
and I assured her I wouldn't as you
laughed and laughed, bell peals
in the backseat and church bells
echoing in my ear, past and possible
future, sodium vapor lights
slipping away along the highway as
your aunt slid back into the passenger seat.
"so"
"so"
"she's quite a
character," I say, bemused, and your
eyes crinkled at the corners like
newspaper redesigned during crumpling as
kindling for the fire, blue and blue and blue
in the backseat.
"that's true"
"just like you"
"just like me" you agree,
crossing your legs, legs that go on
for dynasties in thigh highs and
your dress riding up too high for my eyes
to focus on the taillights ahead of us when
paradise is in the rearview:
love is
cold lobster bisque
in a big bowl in bed in the morning,
two spoons and a carton of orange juice
arrayed on the covers atop our
entangled legs.

And I built shrines in my eyes to you
to mourn what I never had but still held onto.
Dove into an ocean of profound blue
only to come out still nothing anew.
I look out at fig trees
ponder like the Greek’s great Socrates
question my disease,
the words I can’t release.
My life spinning all around him
orbitals of light grown dim.
Through space you cannot swim
from the sins you have been condemned.
If I am mad as they say
how do I still walk the driveway?
Worship on the Lord’s day;
get down on my knees and pray?

Faithful I am, still, to the life I have lived
however disguised.
Loving, as I will when all has died.
Everything you’ve seen is advertised,
a movie set in frames
the tape up in flames.
How tired she is of playing your games,
mouths running to blame.
Me? I am just fine.
Owing it all to bottles on bottles of sparkling wine,
to you and your redesigned
view of the dividing line.

If you wake a girl from her dreams
the gentle chug of a mind’s machine
will it break down, by all means?
It’s better to let her softly scream.
Than distract from the will of inspiration,
of art and death's flirtation.
Continue the persisting narration
speak her mind, give it standing ovations!

Our childhood's prime game;
Creating a paper plane.
Making it fly high,
But it never reached the sky.

We would continue to raise the bar,
But still we wouldn't get very far.
We would trust a redesign,
But never anything different from our own design.

We would work soley for ourselves;
To keep the success to ourselves.
We would spend all day redesigning a paper plane,
But never on redesigning our life's shame.

We live for a paper plane
And its thrill - day by day.
We would accept our life's flaws,
But never our paper plane's flaws.

We would live for irrelevant people and objects,
But never for our own salvation.
We would live with a self-opinionated attitude,
But why do we now live with our opinion based on that of the world?

We live like a paper plane;
Flying high, just to be redesigned.
The world never helps us stay sane
As we're always seen as a failed design.

How do you rest
after the days
that spins your mind
Into unrest;
Is there a place
that nights are kind
Is my distress
can't be erased
and redesigned
Into a zest
that I dare taste
the hope to find
From a hopeless
pile of 'today's
I can't unwind

I am your disease,
every time I come around you vanish me
in every cry whimper or sneeze
I am the ****** in side your head
you are to scared to embrace
I am the horns of the devil
and the smile upon the angels face
I am the dream you cant control
I am the drug that makes you go

we've turned into the monster
that we fought not to be
deep in a darkened whole
black eyes no longer see

burning bridges
perceptive imperfection
a left hand turn
in the right direction

I am your release
everything you want you take from me
echoing your disease
all you are and all you will ever be

elapse relapse reprise your demise
I am the horns of the devil redesigned
objects perplex reflect there subjects
I'm the smile upon the angels face

you are the moral in my dark soul
the purpose to be found
a voice tells you to let go
it's more beautiful 6 feet underground

laying in bed dreams of voluntary aggression
upon waking disappointing depression
or are we being naive now, thought dissection
deflect suspect rejects, infection perfection


who will even see the things we create
think it's great to annihilate the whole human race
debilitating thoughts not knowing how to feel
like naive dogs lost without there master

treasure pain, because without pain
there is no pleasure hit the main vain
insanly refrain from the mundain strain
bane lame thoughts plains of blood stains

I'm asking not knowing what is real
conditions of contradiction & elusive entities
entanglement of putrid bodies
in a mind stricken by poverty

The graveyard
had been redesigned
The walkways had
been realigned

The biggest change
At least to me
Was the signs now out
For all to see

Five short words
that we all read
Not keep off the grass
Don't tread on the dead

Genius,
You'd have to say
Don't walk where we
The dead all lay

This sign,
It said it best
Don't tread on the dead
Let them all rest

Keep on the path
Respects may be paid
Just stay off the grass
One request made

The simplest sign
The words stay in your head
Not...keep off the grass
Just...Don't tread on the dead

My sides have been stuck,
struck with pointed thorns;
unborn tragedies seething for
release.

Each one, I picked and prodded,
and left in soiled animosity;
bitter knots wreathed in poisonous
posterity.

Each foreign touch seems to have
left my gall cascaded
but Yours, debated -

a rhythmic ring of probing
pessimisity.

I breathe.
You squeeze,
touch my outer fringe, the withering;
I freeze.
You bequeath a fresh'ing thorn.

I writhe,


Moments collide -
fourth dimensional paradigms -
commonly unseen,

birthing blooms by vestal wounds;
you cut the stem,
you redesigned the strife,
in obsequios streams.

I vaguely remember our car rides together
I wished they'd last forever
We drove around singing Queen
Imagine what could have been?
I'm nearly eighteen,
I'm beginning to forget

I vaguely remember us at Disney
I cling on to the memory fragments
Reenactments of my mind
I wish our lives where redesigned

I've been told you rocked me to sleep
Where are you now when I'm trying to fall asleep?
I vaguely remember your bad jokes
When I awake you're still not here

I imagine our little conversations today
We could play or sway or you could help me with an essay
Possibilities which will never be
Because you did not stay

It dawned upon me, I have spent most of my life away from you
That makes me feel so blue
I wish we could start anew
For I so desperately miss you

I live in the shadows of the broken hearted.
Scars etched where my shoulder blades once lied.
Stuck deep with bloodied feathers,
that won't let me fly.
I carry a bow long and lean,
carved in it's opal flesh,
hearts mocking me.
With it lie my cursed arrows,
like a bad omen never to leave.

Not born in to life, but thrown
from Heaven was I,
to the grime of
a cracked planet, too far gone to survive.
To bestow love on the corrupt and broken,
the lost and hurt.
The kind of person I once was,
before I was murdered by God.
God is not as gentle and kind as you believe.
Flawed, human, and cruel.
Fragile and meaningless our life is to he,
demolished, and ended with ease.
God thought I would be missed the least.
That's why he chose me.

So now is my duty
to pierce the lonely, the loveless with my
****** arrows.
Give them the love, God never let me have.
I used to not watch the light that spread through their eyes
Electricity spark every nerve in their body
As my arrow ripped and tore
Redesigned their soul.
The pain was too much to bare.
I couldn't imagine seeing happiness so blunt,
so out of reach.
You see, I couldn't shoot myself with my own arrows.
There's no one I could fall for.
I've already hit the ground hard enough.
There's no where left for me to leave.
A sad reality I suffer, but the job must be done.
I must help the lonely ones.
Maybe next time I'll watch and see,
if the love in my arrows is really as strong
as I believe it to be.
I could see with my own eyes, the things I'll never have
and embrace the heartbreak and pain,
as luxary.

frankly
I'm beginning to think that
everything is overrated
and I'm just sinking down underneath
the feet that have trod this path
a million times before
I was ever born.

I know we all walk the same way,
basically, and we all speak the same way-
diaphragm to lung to pharynx to tongue and teeth and lips
to ears
we are easily redesigned and programmed
to mimic those set before us
tweaking the most minute circumstance
and making it our own.
I know this, I know.

but what I want is nothing
something new and unbreakable
but what I want is overrated
and has been thought of.

we all have the same chances
the same mistakes
the same footprints,
essentially speaking.

we're all just bags of pulsing
muscles, bones,
blood and guts
moving forward, or backwards
(if you just squint your eyes and lean in
a little closer).

in a world where anyone can make it,
no one really does-

I know.

my darling maudlin
foolish, peculiar. under-fed.
gushing, pressing your tongue against my teeth
urging please

to speak//to speak.

                                  hosting riots
in my veins. extending out
rushing through my limbs
and then dissolving. quickly while i wasn't looking.
unspecific. waited too long. decision. decision. indecision.
no...

i always miss you
exploding under my skin. that over relished and insecure
notion
of being neglected. untouched. urgency and passion. flicking flickering. thrashing back into my throat splashing in the backs of my eyes. sneaking out the corners. searing like bile. whispering my name and asking me
who are you (again and)
who are you
who are you
i was...


(something)

lost and found and lost again. renamed and redesigned and turned
inside out again and again.
and again and
but i try to remember before i forget.
my darling maudlin. foolish
peculiar.
with damp hair. pale skin. under-fed
my
                                                    ­                                                (( maudlin.))
unraveling like a poorly made
rag doll. oh ****.

not again.

i twist her up. twitch.

guess i... guess i
been caught up in that thing again.

Looking through glasses is like seeing life through a tv.
You never see what's directly infront of you,
Only what's displayed through the glass. 
Our natural vission should not be redesigned,
because this is how we are have been made to view our lives.
if all you have ever seen of this world was through glass,
Then have you really seen the true life you've lived?
Remove the specticales, and look around you.
This is what you're ment to see.
Everything else should not matter,
Cause it's something you should never of seen.

I believe we are all innately energy. Energy can never be destroyed, but is subject to constant restructuring it's design while ever leaning towards entropy. How we can inadvertently give a part of ourselves that is then influenced and redesigned even further by the power of someone else's conscious mind, and then eventually spread so far and thin that it's as if we were never there beyond the grave as time passes. Beyond recognition. Take for example the lives we engage ourselves in. Have you ever sat down and said your name, given yourself an assessment of who you are today? Who you feel you are becoming through your actions and desires? Do you remember who you were years ago, or who you thought you might have been but had no possible way of ascertaining? We can't see the future (very far), but our imaginations allow us to dive in to possible futures based on our own self-cognitive intuition, desire, and furthermore by experiences of déjà vu. there are theories suggesting that our minds are so powerful that we send out electromagnetic impulses unconsciously which very well affect the world around us. I've had profound epiphanies like this a few times in my life, and it makes me think about my avoidance to be engaged in the present. And memory is biased towards our desire as well. We can repress our thoughts, blur years of experience, or forget them entirely. With all this said, I would like to end with a George R. R. Martin quote which concludes my belief that we are all inherently and innately forms of all types of energy, because for most, this is true.
"Men live their entire lives trapped in an eternal present, between the mists of memory and the sea of shadow that is all we know of the days to come."

I wish…
for bygone days
when folks put families first
Not jobs
Not climbing a corporate ladder
Not competing with the Jones
for bigger homes, better cars, smarter kids.

I wish…
for sublime satisfaction
thru the experience of God’s creation
Not from computers & video games
Nor TV & movies
smart phones or social media.

I wish…
that people did not suffer
When their jobs become obsolete
outsourced, redesigned, or restructured.
When they are pressed into conflicts
in their cities, states, or countries
For the sake of another’s perceived privilege
or personal gain.

But the Genie is out of the bottle…*
Set free by wasted wishes
Carelessly contrived
Without lasting purpose or value

Each time I write a rhyme
The redesigned lines
In my undefined mind start to shine
Even if I was blind I could still see the light's lime
I would say this is my time

But I don't own a watch
So I'll never know when the countdown stops
Just keep goin' forever, pretend I'm still runnin' from the cops
Strong in my stance, gonna bust like a balloon and pop
Now that I have the chance I'm just gonna dance and dance in this ballroom til' I drop

Praying someone can respect this sinner
I dip my finger in life's river and gradually test it
Playing the role of a winner
All while remaining casually majestic...

-J.A.M

I wake up as She
and she's auditioning soon;
vying for a part no one can play
but everyone auditions for anyway.

And so we all sit in those
steel foldable chairs that never
get folded back into their original
form, because the bodies always
keep them warm.

The original selves
long for something else to be;
troubled souls in search for
broken homes; like the hidden
shadows of the known unknown.

I am her lips as they
part, close together
like the jaws of a shark,
reciting lines back to the director
crooked and parallel, aligned
waves of soft sounds; they reach
the peaks of receptacle body language
only to suddenly fall back down
barely scathing the director's emotions.

The director sees that there is talent
that lies within the woman;
I am her, and I was
a father of three darling daughters
not too long ago...

But I stand before the director
as her, and there are others
patiently waiting,
like the anchored piranhas
of the binary forest,
the Stygian vultures
of the neon desert;

and they vouch for
each other's safety
until they have landed
the Oscar award winning
scene; the all white cast
beams like the headlights
of an oncoming car.

Their hands free of guilt
washing the darkness away
from my rising star, my ship
no longer corroded brown
but assimilated, organized,
gentrified;

a man redesigned,
retrofitted and recombined
standing before the petrified
live audience as Her
in an ocean blue
dress;

a blood capsule
ready to burst with
finite increments
of happiness.

he took my life right out of my hands
remodeled my hopes, redesigned my plans
and I cannot resent him this
because that incompetence is something I will not miss
this rope is woven with intellect
I view it now as impossible to neglect
but with knowledge comes pain
and suddenly all he made me do was in vain
watching him walk away
I lose my position of being his clay
and I'm unable to model myself as I hoped
but with faked vanity I still grip this rope
I just want to understand
to have my apprehension expand
the world presents itself as so dark
that alone has left its mark
I need to weave in this rope myself
because he cast me to the emptiest corner in hell
all this that haunts my mind
the answers I delusively search to find
he only gave me a taste of this insight
and left me with a curiousity I refuse to fight
I need to find out more about me
maybe then I'll make him see
but no matter how many words I said
my modeler never figured out my head
the artist who couldn't make sense of his creation
this rope is here to destroy our relation
so he can move across the nation
and I'll sit here and try to perceive
all the things that drove him to leave

A land with in a land, shielded from the outside world. All things held in square blocks. Masonry and stone rise to the sky towering above the streets below.  It  harbors of cities ills or is a  bastion of innovation and progressive ideals. The inner city lives a life cycle. It is reinvented, it grows then deteriorates into decay only to be bulldozed then reborn. The land remains, the buildings are redesigned and the people revolve in and out. Race is not important nor are ideals, all that matters is that the enclave is there. It has a high point and  a low point. It thrives then dies . It is like the Phoenix, it goes to ashes then rises from it's own destruction. This is the inner city a land with in a land of urban sprawl.

I am still your kind of beautiful
But not your kind of love.
You are still my kind of love,
But not my kind of "mine".
"I still want to be friends,"
Is like running a race and placing first,
But being told that something went wrong
And you are disqualified.
(I have been disqualified from your heart, I guess,
If anything at all.)

You were part of my world
And I was part of yours.
You're still part of mine,
But I fell through the cracks
When the ground shook and your world was redesigned.
I wish I could see the stars from here.
(I caught myself thinking that the stars were in your eyes,
And that I would rather see your eyes than see the sky.)
At least I am still part of your world, down here.
I content myself with the thought that it is better to
Have been forgotten here than to have been consciously eliminated.
I run my fingers over the molten rock, knowing that at least here
I can be (at) the centre of your world.
(It is a selfish and rather stupid thought that I don't necessarily agree with
But at least I am here
And not nowhere.)

I hate that I remember what day I (we) fell (apart),
But I can't remember what day we first kissed.
I can't remember what day you first said, "I love you".
I can't remember what day I first said, "I love you".
(I can't remember the sound of your voice,
And I hate that I can't remember what it felt like
To be yours.)

How do you go from first place
To "did not finish"?
How do you go from "in love"
To "just friends"?
(I thought things were going great.
How long had things been less than great on your end?)

I suppose one day weeds will choke the flowers
That were planted by your memory
And fertilized by your love.
And one day when those weeds die,
New flowers will be planted by someone else.
Perhaps the wind will stop whispering your name
In favour of howling someone else's.
The sky will take the stars back from your eyes
And I guess fill someone else's someday.
But for now it is all still yours and for you.
(I still want it to be yours but you don't want it anymore.)

Now I face storms alone.
The clouds yell and fight the way we never did.
(I never got to know what it was like to be with you
When thunder rumbled and lightning struck.)
Things are no longer the same.
I am no longer the same.
And neither are you.

We gave each other the world
Until you took yours back.
You are my kind of love,
But now you're not my kind of "mine".

Cloaked in black velvet and silver adorned skull peices. A halo of anxiety sits over my head. The intrusive pornographic thoughts rumble like holograms in front of my minds eye. Iris's and lillys. Dandelions and sunflowers. I want to stick my fingers in all the flowers and taste their pollen on my lips. Fantasia salivation elicted with cowbell bass drops. *** sells in seconds, lust in hours, love in years

Feeling  like a ****** journalist. Her green.hair, another with straight bangs. A septum and ****** peircing peirce me straight through the heart. Its vanity but its a start.
Let me wrap you in eagle feathers and wolf fur. Let me exercise your cowskull traumas, raging buffalo hormones into rebirth
Huff and blow moaned words into ear canals as I enter your eternal.
Infernal like the lusts of hell
Ethanol and bossom busts sell in seconds, Lost in hours with love to fear.
Gold halo of Anxiety paired with a silver skull clad in black velvet
Thrusts of the pelvic
Release whats held in
Redesigned pulpit seldom held words in
Align with me the divinity felt in
*** (in)finite feelings that last in transnce. Slowly peeling away strips of skin to permanance.
Feeling an earnest sense of wonderment. No time to wonder what it meant when impermance is permanent

Smoke cigarettes for the hurt when life has turned to **** but you heard it when i said i love you and you turned a bit. Looked in my eyes and i caught a glimpse of a future id like to witness. Didnt hear a word you said but i saw the world in your eyes instead. Tried to listen but my brain went dead
No words to say when you glow infared. Hotter than the spectrum
of sight. Glowing infared,
Youre hotter than spectrums of light so burn me like Arizona sunlight
Slap ***, hand shaped sunburn from a liquid honey night. *** on lap, lap up the *** like the last watersource, pour it on my face until gasps of air you hear. Taste your pollen near my lips nectarine fallen on your chest.

Feel the lasting affects
Of sexs' (in)finitely affixed fixation on transience. Glowing infared and ambient. Flowing energy in the pits of sacral chakras, returned to the crown and passed back down. Circulating intuitive lessons, divine bits of each other imbued in fission, fuse them into   living. Seperated by the gods as two seperate beings, unite mind, body, soul
Freeing all in estatic feeling.
Peeling all the tragic sealed in
Two seperate beings fleeing
Into impermanance
Towards a permanent form of seeing
3-4-5
666 eyes healing

your kind
but saddly blinded.

you could rewinded
we could redesigned mankind

when its sunny
i feel awesomely

but only with you.

They say hearts get torn easily,
Like the fabric of those thin shirts you like to wear when it's hot outside,
and those tightly knit fibers that have been aligned and In sync since the day it was was strung together now seems feeble and fragile
And these young hearts like ours are torn from the wear and tear and get faded from getting washed from the tears and all the salt that comes from your heart being shattered to pieces,
Hearts like ours
quilted ones with different fabrics
Some soft some hard all have to be put back together like jigsaw puzzles and be made somewhat new again but not all the pieces fit together completely
See the complexity of a heart is that even the most calloused,hardened, scarred ones need to be filled with something.
The fractured missing from the whole get sown back together and redesigned to learn to deal with the pain they just experienced. And then the fabrics are made complete with safety pins to make sure the fabric stays pieced together in turmoil
See hearts like ours need safety pins like any other fabric in our life needs to be washed
Whether by hand or by beating and battering the crap out of it hearts like ours
Fragile hearts like ours need cleaning
And like any other well used fabric
hearts like ours fade and wrinkle and tear but they're still the same
Our hearts are still the same