You know I don’t speak.
I was scared for a long time
And never knew what to say
And kept my head down
And worked harder for your respect.
I never knew what to say
Until I decided
You don’t need to know me
And I don’t need your respect.
And now you’re afraid of me.
Because you know I don’t speak.
Every next time I remember you less.
Every next time I’m running
And burning so smooth.
And remembering less.
Hello, are you there?
Can I see you again?
I’m outside your window
Inside your sheets
In your lost eyes
And taut replies
Locked in the grip
Of your soft lips
There are countless creations to create and recreate and combine and discover. We create to become attached to this world we live in. By creating ideas, crafts, tools, dreams, relationships, solutions, and visions we find our potential. Freedom follows knowledge. Maintaining personal lies denies our capacity to be completely free. Maintaining social and political lies is an extra layer of deception that denies finding even our personal lies. Proliferating a lie of any scale or strata interferes with our connection to creation and our connection to all of those created before us.
Apples: Why would I be into lacrosse?! How high are you right now? 9:42 PM
Oranges: OMG I’m so high that I thought for a second that you were into lacrosse 9:47 PM
Oranges: Did I tell you about the dream I had about the guillotine? 9:50 PM
Oranges: That’s how high I am 9:50 PM
Oranges: I’m so high, I’m teaching birds how to fly 9:51 PM
Oranges: OK I’ll stop now 9:51 PM
Oranges: How high are you? 9:55 PM
Apples: Omg 9:56 PM
Your way became mine today:
Wane eroding play.
I saluted your resolve
as you demised me.
Missing rails of light ride the edge of your eyes.
You see me missing my lines and rattle my lies.
Vector by your placement,
points distort and quiver
at the elliptical arc of your spine.
You roil and gloss and mesmerize.
Like the dream of you,
it becomes complete
and with a word
to the sea.
Tears from futures past tomorrow.
From their ashes, we emerge as trees.
I saw you there again
in this night grim and gentle
You guide me through your courts
of jesters and fears
Supplication before your throne
to gaze upon your face
It is not enough
or it is too much
This palace suffocates inside your beauty
as part of silent castles crumble