X-posted on the xang
here's some more written words for you all. poetry blahblahblah that i do during class instead of paying attention, or in the case of the writing with actual form, when i'm inspired. yup. here you go.
_____________________
the lies we fake define us. our fronts and our masks tell more than any amount of words. and we bask in this synthetic blanket warmth covering every moment we fake it. with every breath and every sigh we perpetuate. with every breath and every sigh we complicate. and go on with this facade. and go on still composed.
________________
there are acrylics
everywhere i look
painted fields with
the most vibrant wildflowers
the blues and the reds and the greens
the colors i picture
they aren't even possible
in this world
and on the horizon
a tree forms in the gray
charcoal shapes the trunk
and forks the branches
then, it begins to rain
but only over this little plot
the rain is far from anything
i've ever seen
it's purple and streaking
shocking at first
yet exactly how it should be
and for some reason
it doesn't fall to the ground
but sticks to the branches
and becomes its leaves
still streaking
the willow blows in the wind and rain
and the leaves come off in the weather
making the brightest green
and deepest purple
you have ever laid your eyes upon
only to be replaced by the very rain
that shook them free
you know the moment you see this
you aren't in iowa anymore
you aren't in jersey or florida
you aren't in yorkshire or yellow knife
you're in your own head
your soul
and the air you breathe
is the freshest
and the water you drink
is the clearest
and what you see
is exactly
what you've wanted to see
all of your life
_____________________
the lies we fake define us. our fronts and our masks tell more than any amount of words. and we bask in this synthetic blanket warmth covering every moment we fake it. with every breath and every sigh we perpetuate. with every breath and every sigh we complicate. and go on with this facade. and go on still composed.
________________
there are acrylics
everywhere i look
painted fields with
the most vibrant wildflowers
the blues and the reds and the greens
the colors i picture
they aren't even possible
in this world
and on the horizon
a tree forms in the gray
charcoal shapes the trunk
and forks the branches
then, it begins to rain
but only over this little plot
the rain is far from anything
i've ever seen
it's purple and streaking
shocking at first
yet exactly how it should be
and for some reason
it doesn't fall to the ground
but sticks to the branches
and becomes its leaves
still streaking
the willow blows in the wind and rain
and the leaves come off in the weather
making the brightest green
and deepest purple
you have ever laid your eyes upon
only to be replaced by the very rain
that shook them free
you know the moment you see this
you aren't in iowa anymore
you aren't in jersey or florida
you aren't in yorkshire or yellow knife
you're in your own head
your soul
and the air you breathe
is the freshest
and the water you drink
is the clearest
and what you see
is exactly
what you've wanted to see
all of your life