everything is illuminated
sounds ♪♪ falling is like this
- - Poet's House - Maggie Taylor
Life like: vitamin tablets and songs in which our water-logged hero sings a passion I can hum along to; books about turning inside out and letting my feet get cold just to stand outside with the porch light on just a little longer; sea shells under fresh sheets to remember something you never had, and will have again and the rush of waves like clouds like mountains like things permanent and crumbling.
Life like: “I have this theory that the fight might just be worth it.”, pressing fingers to lips and pushing the laughter back in over too-big comfort confessions for beautiful girls with sweet, fresh names, that should have stayed locked in, and the light sliding over the roof-tops I can see from my bedroom window, even without looking.
Life like: the first beautiful day in months, sitting on the kitchen floor undone by the fact that the windows are dirty instead of opening the door; train sounds underneath the noises of life.
Life like: travelling for the sake of dirt in your shoes and wind through your bones; pre-emptive strike against the act of forgetting, of being forgotten.
Life like: watching all of the water drain from the bath, holding mass for the things you washed away.
Life like: breathe, and keep breathing.
Life like: life.
- - Poet's House - Maggie Taylor
Life like: vitamin tablets and songs in which our water-logged hero sings a passion I can hum along to; books about turning inside out and letting my feet get cold just to stand outside with the porch light on just a little longer; sea shells under fresh sheets to remember something you never had, and will have again and the rush of waves like clouds like mountains like things permanent and crumbling.
Life like: “I have this theory that the fight might just be worth it.”, pressing fingers to lips and pushing the laughter back in over too-big comfort confessions for beautiful girls with sweet, fresh names, that should have stayed locked in, and the light sliding over the roof-tops I can see from my bedroom window, even without looking.
Life like: the first beautiful day in months, sitting on the kitchen floor undone by the fact that the windows are dirty instead of opening the door; train sounds underneath the noises of life.
Life like: travelling for the sake of dirt in your shoes and wind through your bones; pre-emptive strike against the act of forgetting, of being forgotten.
Life like: watching all of the water drain from the bath, holding mass for the things you washed away.
Life like: breathe, and keep breathing.
Life like: life.