Noise.

What is the noise wrapped in a silent cloak?
A shifting fabric that drifts over the body-
And surrenders this porous substance-
To an oceans whisper.

Transcend.

It’s a beautiful thing said the dreamer to the other.
This life, our hearts, your skin.
Shoulders brushing.
Or watching the smoke from your cigarette curl above your lip.
Transcend.
We are connected as is everything else.
To nature.
To each other.
And when all is quiet, I am here for you.
Like the redwood to the forest.
Surrounding.
Present.
Majestic.
Breathe in for me.
And I will exhale.
Together we will be the wind that catches the leaves.
Together we will be the smoke that drifts from your cigarette.
It is then we will see each other and ourselves at the same time.

Sia.

For those in need
for those who speed
for those who try to slow their minds with weed

sunday
sunday

for those who wake
with a blind headache
who must be still, who will sit and wait
for sunday, to be monday

yeah, it will be ok
do nothing, today
give yourself a break
let your imagination run away

for those with guilt
for those who wilt under pressure, no tears over
spilt milk.

sunday
sunday

sunday
sunday

sunday
sunday

yeah, it will be ok
do nothing today
give yourself a break,
let you imagination runaway

yeah it will be ok
do nothing today
give yourself a break
let your imagination runaway

I move lines.

I move lines of graphite,
tuck them into teeny white fibrous pillows.
Little dreamers that cradle their heads in the black of night.
Smooth them with my fingers.
Smudge them with my mind.
Follow my hands over this whitish substance,
rough against my own hand,
I warm it.

Untouched.

Oh what yearning ensues your presence!
To cradle in my arms the beauty you possess-
to hold all the light that which rests in your eyes-
perchance I could see that intangible thing that binds me to you.
What secrets we keep, to spare the foolish heart.
Of which has everything to say
yet is always silenced
by fear.

Blame the grey goose.

The most beautiful things are often the things we let go in order to keep them in our lives.

pools of green fill me up
till my teeth echo in my reflection
how fortunate am i
that you allow me to witness sincerity
before death.

cutting the red tape.

Autonomy is an aquatic creature unable to survive outside the fluid that is one’s own soul.