(no subject)
a coyote running across the road, search lights creating a path to either heaven or hell up the mountain, no distinction. the high priestess, nothing is black or black. a constant ache. here i feel better and worse than ever. my existence feels pointless, but i can trust each days worth. laying groundwork for future revelries. tearing, tearing, torn. the wind makes the trees dance and my pockets are filled with coins. i want to dance. i want to sing. i want to rip this skin off and show my new wings. i will lick them clean. brown, gold, gray, cream. "soon, my love", you say. i know, i know. i'm just getting tired of waiting.