i never have subjects in my real journal
Don't try to deny the thoughts you left behind when your eyes grew dark and you started to run behind them,
for fear instead of joy your legs pumped and you prayed they weren't pistons, and the sun set while skimming rocks looked to the sky for someone to question, but faces formed fluid walls against them, you asked where you were and no one answered, and telegrams from your long lost treasure tower felt like cancer, eating you while it reminds you of your existence, too mysterious to master, till digging through pockets on your sensory organs looking for something you knew was more than that cacophonous collective constructing metallic whales for use by the masses, and dark glasses obstruct the stars and sea leaving only visions of tesselated stained glass flowers inside your head, refusing food and words for hours you find your legs still sprinting yet you fail to remember why, so you live like an animal and are known by no one, standing among trees only to stare at the sun, because with any luck it will pierce you, teach your fingers sweet melodies to make the leaves dance but only the wind can really do that, so you wait for high noon to weave yourself into silk flowers and crawl underground to cello rythms, and from inside a pyramid you're screaming just to see what listens, and you're flying now with your legs still on the ground, look back to see frowns upon faces you once knew, or, sometimes, nothing at all, recalling days under guitar strings and between bedsheets, you turn back around and skip another stone into the lake at dawn. Hopefully, you'll be ready to dive in before to long.
I'm going away to my dad's for the week, i know i've been somewhat reclusive lately but anyone who wants to keep me company on the phone can call 978 618 9861
for fear instead of joy your legs pumped and you prayed they weren't pistons, and the sun set while skimming rocks looked to the sky for someone to question, but faces formed fluid walls against them, you asked where you were and no one answered, and telegrams from your long lost treasure tower felt like cancer, eating you while it reminds you of your existence, too mysterious to master, till digging through pockets on your sensory organs looking for something you knew was more than that cacophonous collective constructing metallic whales for use by the masses, and dark glasses obstruct the stars and sea leaving only visions of tesselated stained glass flowers inside your head, refusing food and words for hours you find your legs still sprinting yet you fail to remember why, so you live like an animal and are known by no one, standing among trees only to stare at the sun, because with any luck it will pierce you, teach your fingers sweet melodies to make the leaves dance but only the wind can really do that, so you wait for high noon to weave yourself into silk flowers and crawl underground to cello rythms, and from inside a pyramid you're screaming just to see what listens, and you're flying now with your legs still on the ground, look back to see frowns upon faces you once knew, or, sometimes, nothing at all, recalling days under guitar strings and between bedsheets, you turn back around and skip another stone into the lake at dawn. Hopefully, you'll be ready to dive in before to long.
I'm going away to my dad's for the week, i know i've been somewhat reclusive lately but anyone who wants to keep me company on the phone can call 978 618 9861