willow-is-typing

[willow-is-typing]

I dont think I can hide in my closet anymore. All my favorite things on on the outside. Halllp.

[willow-is-typing]

Seeing your parents cry is like watching a God lose in battle.

[willow-is-typing]

A Continental Art Nouveau Ceramic Butterfly Statue

.c. 1900

Marks : P. Feffer

Source: Heritage Auctions

[willow-is-typing]

Sun Song (1979)

[willow-is-typing]

on knowledge

[willow-is-typing]

Breathing life back into a room that hasn't been lived in in years

[willow-is-typing]

Im in the right body, but its not the right shape.

My mide is made up but its not where it's supposed to be.

I love my scars, my birthmarks, my freckles.

I love my thoughts, my ideas, and my wonders wondering.

I know who I am supposed to be but I am not him. He is me but when he looks at me I can't look him in the eyes.

He lives in my mirror. He doesn't look how he is supposed to.

One day I'll find a way to help the boy, be who he is, be him.

We, he, I.

[willow-is-typing]

When me and the clouds make eye contact the sky swallow me whole.

I'll fall into up, the up picks down into my down.

Wind goes through me and im not here anymore.

Im above the sorrow and staleness of my cave.

Careless love for me and only me, fun for my love of me.

[willow-is-typing]

My ears are covered and my whisper is muffled

My eyes are glazed and my mind is dusty

My blood is heavy and my muscles are sore

My knuckles are loose

My fingers are unsteady

When can I go back.

I miss the normal. I miss the dirt. I miss the laughs.

I miss sore feet and tired legs.

I miss falling over.

I miss falling asleep.

I miss asking, thinking, thoughts, wondering, this im sure.

[willow-is-typing]

But despite all odds, they cared.

[willow-is-typing]

I'd like to lay in a ditch somewhere, maybe in the middle of the woods or on the side of the highway. I'd wear a grey collar shirt, tucked into pants held up by a belt. I'd rest my head in the soil, and let dirt get in my long hair. I'd close my eyes to recite a song I heard years ago in my head, and relax. I'd let the worms and June bugs make a home in my hair, and let the moths and wasps sit on my arms and chest.

I'd let myself forget. I'd forget the things that trouble me, the people I worry about, and the people who worry about me. I'd forget the things I love. I'd forget the weight thats always on my chest and shoulders. I'd let myself remember bliss.

[willow-is-typing]

I think glittery pens would make me feel better.

[willow-is-typing]

I want to go to bed giggley and content someday.