Waking Life

Waking Life

If not NOW, when...

will we rise above the hillside of our words and search the ends of our coastal verbs; will we trip inside the wires of our desires; will we learn to shine brightly in the glimmer of our fates without fading at the flick of our mistakes; will we run the streets and fill its edges with the sound of our laughter and the sight of our boards as they pound the pavement [...]

H I R Æ T H

H I R Æ T H

There is nothing left unsaid...

 

Words came avow: the scratch of pens upon blank pages made them sing a-new melodies that ripple the ache in my veins. Providence wore and tore itself into Oblivion's belt. Our bodies came undone: lungs fumed into air whilst hearts syncopated into drops -- lost in the hue of its own sparkle, lips unspooled their citizenship whilst eyes gazed solemnly into the abyss until melting into wax [...]

/ˈin-tə-mə-sē/

/ˈin-tə-mə-sē/

I would like to abuse my lungs and smoke your existence, until losing myself in the rapture of intimacy; thus, materializing into recycled air...all before the saints reincarnate into their lost causes and my sins come looking for last year's rent. I want every breaking wave of thorns and scars to appraise (my) every syllable until they converse and ripe into lullabies of innocence and desire stolen from a coalition of thirsty lips that ache to coalescence with my Faith's villainy.

Rapture | Sojourn

Rapture | Sojourn

Silence: a burn, a shiver... 

 

Words float like birds trapped in between half-whispered songs and broken smiles that fill a knife-grey sea of landfill promises that fail to hear (and feel!) their invocation. Every breaking wave signals the wreckage of our scars: the absolution of Time's arrow. Solitude reminds me of the face and the beauty that adorn my imagination -- oh, Lucidity!

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