ThoughtlessnessThere was a period in my life where I had very little regard for my own safety. I’m talking real thoughtlessness here; the kind of situation where you’d find me standing literally an inch away from a passing vehicle. I was crossing the road with a friend and this truck came up, so I stopped in the middle of the road (it was a two-way street, so it had that white line in the middle) and waited for it to pass me by.More Like This
I remember later my friend catching up to me and asking what the hell was I doing, standing so close to a moving truck like that, and I couldn’t give an honest answer. There was no reason. I just did. Said friend also mentioned the truck driver was screaming bloody murder at me for being so reckless, although I never noticed it.
In truth, I don’t believe I was truly being reckless at all. Being reckless would imply that I had every intention of doing the dangerous things that I did, but if I were to be completely honest, I actually didn’t. It was
my thought pattern is a quilt..a intricate designMore Like This
from delicate fingers and simple tools,
etched on my wrist.
"but let us not show the world the art." you had told me that day i let you peek at my 'masterpiece.'
for fear at what perspective can do, i suppose.
so i'll keep the sleeves long
and the jackets on
beauty is in the eye of the beholder, you know.
Baptism I wish I lived by the sea.More Like This
Mainly because of its intimidating beauty and the tremendous fear it sparks inside of me. The sound of the crashing waves, smooth and powerful alike, eating away at the sandy shore, makes my stomach cringe. But I understand now, things that hurt us, that have the potential to crush us, to kill us, fascinate us. The wind here still carries whispers of those who've given in to its mystical lullaby. That's why they worshiped it, personified it. Called it a God by various names. But maybe it's just me.
Maybe I'm self-destructive.
And maybe I love the sea because it reminds me of your eyes during the cold winters. Dark grey, vibrating with veiny streaks of green like the murky water when thin, golden rays seep through the air and the heavy clouds split open revealing a belly of silvery needles.
Needles. Purple bruises and scars that make my arms ugly and alone.
The sea brings back memories from the deep and washes away the
maple syrupnoon drew a quaint hazeMore Like This
over her loveseat and delicately
pushed up the hem of
her patient throw
slow, she felt it
warm as first crushes
and calming as breath
on her nape
shapely and graceful,
noon swam through the room
and kept its lips
standing in the doorway
she wondered at
the streams of light
and let them kiss
sanctified, she became one
with the ebb of time
as noon left her bedroom