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of rushed words and hushed thirsts
mellowman

the wave, the surge

Some call it love and some call it sex.
opposites.
Call it what you want, but with one touch and you’re gone, so call in sick.
Human politics, from whispered hushes and distant crushes.
Mental fits breakin’ pencil tips and
inkin’ brushes.
Simple rushes.
God makes man and this is the devil's finishing touches.
- Butterfly Effect -

alfresco

beat, rhythm
questions, answers

movements





brief traces

August 2010
September 2010
October 2010
November 2010
March 2011
June 2011
July 2011
August 2011
September 2011
November 2011
January 2012
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February 2013
March 2013
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November 2013
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January 2014
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July 2014
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November 2014
December 2014
February 2015
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July 2015
December 2015
January 2016
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January 2017
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April 2017
June 2017
October 2017
December 2017
January 2018
June 2018
July 2018
January 2019
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April 2019
June 2019
November 2019
November 2020
December 2020
March 2021
July 2021
November 2022
December 2024
January 2025

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

I think I'm bleeding but no one sees it so I'm not.

I will not be with you. And we know it'll be alright. That's why none of us held on. But I'm bleeding. Somehow. It's bleeding.

I hope that thoughts of what might have been are prayers for dawns dipping our foreheads onto the earth, afternoons arming us with Remembrance, and dusks driving us to His warmth. I hope that trusting His judgement is a sign we're closing in onto our purpose, that I realise what's important, that you find what you're looking for. I hope that the journey that roped us here will be freeing ourselves from our ignorance, from my past, from your choices.

I hope that we will be alright. And we already are. Really. At least, you are.


♥ 12:21 AM