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Melancholy~

I cannot see, cannot breathe

there are roots growing inside of me

crawling in between each of my ribs,

around my spine, seeping into my mind,

I even think I can hear the faint splintering of wood.

Each step ahead is a little more hefty,

and there’s splinters in my feet,

The desire to stop dragging

sounds so much like a treat

to let the roots grow around,

it wouldn’t hurt a bit,

I wouldn’t make a sound.

Looking lovely from atop

with flowers growing from my head,

the roots have tied me to the earth,

almost like I’m dead,

but my breathing labors raggedly

under the strength of peacefully stillness

calm and quiet, but fading away

I want to run around

I don’t live under a tree

I live above the ground.

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Frequencies Align~

The mechanics of my biology

are a submarine

radar heart, sonar spirit,

this is how I see.

Through clouded waters I tread

deep below the waves

emitting a unique frequency

looking for someone to crave,

all of us swimming down here glow a certain shade

and once in a while there’s a blip on my screen,

beeping and headed closer,

quickening until they’re in front of you,

and their light is marine pristine.

Shades of technicolor life

look petaled through the twirling of currents,

the most alive thing I’ve seen,

and whatever radio waves I’m vibrating at

I hope you can also sense me.

Dots of dust and thoughtful lust

plague me at the bottom of the ocean,

but when frequencies align,

sonar bursts collide,

when you come close to thinking

you’re just another sunken ship

your signals bounce right back,

been received, there’s someone else

having the same desired panic attack.

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Steve McCurry, flower vendor

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2014 in stars

by matialonsor

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17/01/2014 20:55 //

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I’m addicted to silence and privacy; I wallow in it.

Valorie Wesley (via japan-overload)

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I walked through Central Park today

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A bath tub cut out of a large single piece of Quartz Crystal.

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