late september. bare feet. fifth of jack.
as the sun broke from the wrath
of the unpiercable storm clouds that were blocking
its rays and sunk towards the horizon
the sky turned into a pink so striking
that it was like the world locked
lips and decided that it was
time for the downpour to end forever.

is that what freedom feels like?
when all the barriers that tear us apart
break, does it feel
like late september?
does it feel like walking along the coastline,
the stinging aroma of salt water,
the sound of the waves crashing into
the sand and the
wind whipping stray locks of hair
across your face?
does everything look sublime
and crystal clear?

freedom.
late september.
the most beautiful dream emerging from
a daunting nightmare.

-*z. vega

Sunspots,
we made eye contact, her fiery gaze was so bright all I could see were sunspots.
It started as just one but I didn't want to look away, I couldn't, and god ****** it burnt. My vision started to falter and that little speck of darkness began to grow.
Sunspots
My trance-like stare remained unbroken, I was being burnt from within
Sunspots, until one turned into ten.
I felt her heat deep beneath the surfaces of skin and as the heat rose my little sunspots became all I could see.
I was dumbfounded, lost, her radiance had blinded me.
Confused and scared I spun about to see if there were any traces of light left in the dark, Sunspots.
It wasn't long till I began to lose hope, beaten and broken with my toes dangling off the floor I hung myself and used her as the rope.
Sunspots, as my little dark circles couldn't possibly get any darker the rope snapped and my vision came too.
There on my knees I began to sob, I was so captivated I let light burn me out.
Sunspots
When I picked myself up, to my surprise I could still see her glow.
Sunspots
She had remained present through the night, hidden behind a thick shroud, unpiercable by the most furious of light.
I glanced softly, tracing the aura surrounding her, I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact even though my entire chest was pounding for her.
Sunspots
I've learned a gentle focus is key, I can bask in her radiance without her worry of burning
Sunspots
I can finally see

There is a distinct form of tragedy
Within freedom
A certain breed of loneliness
That is only felt as an echo
One could sail alone with the wind
For an indefinite time
Without noticing it
And every gentle touch
Or grasp with lustful hands
Is felt as just a whisper
Without the satisfaction
Of a scream
One could endure earth shaking loads of
Pure, unadulterated thunder
And feel nothing at all
And the labyrinth is,
Is this numbness –
This unpiercable veil of anesthesia –
Is it strength,
Or weakness?