I. Lets stop for a minute to write all over the walls. We’ll trace our shadows like we did our hands as kids. Make monsters out of them now instead of turkeys because I guess that makes more sense. I’m too scared to make shadow creatures by candle light because what if they’re not content to be just that, to stay just shapes.
II. Razor sharp shoulder blades slicing through the dark. That hard dark that hurts your eyes and where nightmare grow from, it’s lit up by heart sparks and car batteries. It’s in this kind of dark that you can only tell the truth. Lies can’t float through air this thick.
III. I need to stop having conversations with the moon when I’m alone. That sweet, self concious moon rushing the cloud rapids and hiding whenever she can. Midnight conversations over tea, about anything, including everything. The slight smell of citrus is comforting.
IV. You were a dove surrounded by flames, painting stars on your bedroom ceiling so you didn’t feel so caged in. What you saw as iron bars in a little brass bird cage were actually a run way, complete with neon lights down both sides, patiently waiting for you to see the real thing but refusing to leave out the doors marked with the same lights.
Monday - March 19th, 2012 - 2:32 am.