I'm creating my own compass. magnet pulled to midnight plus five. the haunts. the dreams. the roaming. the desolation. the dead laughter of silence. the intense eye of wonder. abandoning the process of navigation. scattered purposely. across and over and throughout
I wear a dream-hat under a rose-blush barren sky. words make up my gumball-machine head. gaining numbness to this ill-tranquility. if morning streaks gray across the horizon... if I die today... let it be in your arms. falling into familiar. that fleshy open casket. comforted by your pulse. dancing in your light. a gleaming bare of preciousness. innocence restored. spontaneous gaiety. unaware and uncaring. that will be my new direction. my new destination
there are nights lived wildly. barely alive at all. seething. bound in starvation. where true love is self-sustained once the seed has been planted. I carry my infant ego back to you for nourishment and fine-tuning. a novice at this strange instrument. born so unprepared
or born was I at all... perhaps just carried forward, or gently pulled
(Image from mirrorsinner.tumblr.com)
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