Your gateway to endless inspiration
Blue
The ocean of your eye's
I so easily drowned in
I should learn to swim
Blue
The color everything wear's when I'm with you
I get so dizzy too easily
Blue
The late nights, we were separate but one
Insomnia hath its way too easily with me
Blue
The emotions I feel when I see you with another
You have no idea the amount of happiness and despair you bring
Blue
Water shimmering, I saw your reflection in my dream
I should be over this by now
Blue
Mellow and sweet like Julia
Yet deep, the ocean has nothing on you
Watching the ocean late at night does me no good
Blue
The moon is beautiful indeed
It compares to an incomplete quilt around you
Man I give compliments too easily
Blue
You are a Lily, Arum, I a weed
My plant's at least will never reject me
Blue
Lonely nights I listen to your voice
I think I can hear it right now
These ears are too sensitive
Blue
We just friends and that's okay
After all
Peasants don't get with queens
2018.05.17
All would be consumed by shadow if not for an unseen, smudged streetlamp blanketing all beneath it in everlasting burgundy mist. In some space-time ripples, it is evergreen. For other eternities, it is cerulean. Despite the variance, universal commonality is found in its blurred glow.
This light delineates all forms, together interlocked in a state of static, monochrome bliss. These relics change, but never while I see them. Those that have graced my apertures in eye and mind include wet playground equipment, monoliths with tops trapped in mist, and abandoned antique cars.
The aura that permeates my body remains the same. It is the tinge of warmth felt within someone’s embrace, somehow gleaned from facing someplace where this had last occurred at least a decade ago. It is a sign of life found in one of countless mounds of dilapidated structures in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. It is a spiritual sign of the possibility of solace within the cold, concrete walls of an insane asylum whose inhabitants offer only volatility. It is an infinitesimal, but nonetheless unmoving constant in the midst of chaos, contained and concealed forever from the surrounding universe.
In my disillusion, I believe in the approach of a day when I may graze my fingertips across all of the surfaces. Thought ensnares me while my frozen body maintains a glassy stare as my daydreams and memories, whether fabricated or true, turn to burning rubble where no flame dances. I once again watch the fog-borne snapshots fade to charred blackness behind my eyelids.
https://twwrt.wordpress.com/2023/08/04/fog-borne-snapshots/