November 2011
123 posts
I want to write things but I have so much jumbling thoughts rolling around, piling on top of one another, getting lost among the disorganized mess of glitter, shadows, warm lights, furry pelts, magic, darkness, cold marble slabs, moonlight, twinkling stars, drops of blood, fluttering wings, feathers, crackling fire, sunbeams catching floating pollen on a summer day in a place that exists only in...
I have insomnia. No champagne, cider, pills, or cozy warm blankets can harness this disruptive force inside my head. I just cant shut it off. Laying…. wide….awake….
Bright as Yellow
And you live your life with your arms stretched out. Eye to eye when speaking. Enter rooms with great joy shouts, happy to be meeting. And bright, bright, bright as yellow, warm as yellow. And I do not want to be a rose. I do not wish to be pale pink, but flower scarlet, flower gold. And have no thorns to distance me, but be bright, bright, bright as yellow, warm as yellow. Even if...
I wish it would rain, right now.
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“I never thought of it as God. I didn’t know what to call it. I don’t...”
– Gene Wilder
“So fair, so cold. Like a morning of pale spring, still clinging to winters...”
