Blog,
today I felt sad and cried over some flowers.
A snapping turtle breathing above water is a sincere vibration. If anyone asks.
Blog, if anyone asks, set fire to your reflection and run away.
You don't have enough time to scuff all the mirrors.
If language want shape, fling your saliva. It'll pan out.
At some point you were in love. Would you go back?
At some point you have been asked to return to your childhood home, however you define it. Will you go back?
Blog, how do you address me? Have you come up with something better?
You don't have to tell me. I don't think I'll ever read my poetry to my mother.
Go slow. Some recipes require you let the food continue to cook after removing the heat.
Moonlight is serious!
I was asked if I've seen the comet. I have not.
Last night I was woken up by thunder. That was good.
My familiar faces are the private relationships I have with grass stripped of its remarkable ordinariness, a soccer field.
Whatever direction is west if the roads all turn. I can't figure out which way to head towards, when I type my best friend's address into my phone.
I'm tired from always saying the things I don't want.
I want to garden.
I want to pick basil and make pesto and use it all in one meal.
If you're scared, stay up until the sunrise imposes something on you. It is good to do things, from time to time. The morning always smells like morning. Be awake for it.
Feel like you are on top on the earth for once.
Want things. Little things.
Shave your head if you think that will bring you peace.
Read a complicated book just to figure out that you haven't exhausted what you can do with your mouth.
Hang onto a contradiction. That's praxis.
If anyone asks, you feel afraid of feel how good it can be.
The coming pleasure.
No comments:
Post a Comment