and when i find this place, i’ll know. i’ll name it sacred, my hidden home, and if the dream-weaving, silver-spun sky holds the heavens above me low enough, just right i’ll split myself into infinity, i’ll scatter unseen, give myself to some springtime breeze
on crumpled maps, i’ll chart my course, with luminous eyes, and runaway thoughts of wooden cabins, crystal coves of waking up where no one knows my name, undraped, grass-stained and swaying bathed in silver moonlight, fading
you were not that story, you were not my shining path, just some sordid fever-dream thing, slowly snaking through tall grass
dusk drops, transforming the place turns the bedroom floor into some sacred space
i took a walk, one california evening under stars on strings, wisps of cloud, hanging ribbons of silver above me and below me, cracked asphalt, like diamonds, all glitter, under the orange glow of streetlights flickering. i might be fracturing too. in just a couple weeks, under a midnight sun, maybe i’ll meet a landscape that might mirror my moods, maybe i’ll forget you. problem is i don’t want to. (a lot of what i post on this blog are lyrics from various songs i write. these words are from a song that i’m in the middle of crafting)
autumnal long-light, shadows fracturing your stained glass words, refraction promising though somewhat distant, still so delicate she’ll see right through you, how you orbited.
you set me aglow, under a sky shaded indigo. your words are silver and dripping spilt ink it’s kind of wild, i don’t know what to think.
he was a black hole disguised as a boy, i threw myself into the depths of him. it was a place where no light gets out, and no light gets in i spent years in the black. i met the shapeless faces that lurk in the darkest places, but i’m never going back. i am never going back.
and these swirling patterns, watch them complicate, and you and i, we’ll try to replicate.