“losing vision, lost her sight.
it is a feeling, once thought is manifest;
touch, it’s tangible.
pain is no more real,
unless real is the person to witness strain.
it is truth though,
that once life is shared,
it seeks a being from which sharing comes.
and when sharing does not knock;
to see, to feel,
means all the less.”
“the silence is more than the everything we cannot articulate.
in silence, the unimaginable dream takes flight.”
[my art is words… sharing them makes me uncomfortably vulnerable.]
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what is beauty? given the proper eyes:
deer strides across the painted lines, from leafy wilderness to concrete madness.
and how they run in pairs; a deer, a doe.
street cleaners washing away the dust, mindlessly flushing away little specs of us.
where does it go? do we really dissolve so fast?
and what a familiar smell that is, home at last.
lonely mess, loss of mind, a spring breeze through the window.
sunlight as your wake up.
mornings mean more, who do you think of first?
you’re always aware of what you don’t have.
it’s a fist fight, bruises taking the shape of puzzle pieces.
they help re-trace your steps.
i’d like to see the curl of your lashes in the morning.
can we have it all? youth gifts us with uncertainty.
—would u read this in a book? would it mean something to you? would it give your heart pangs, make you angry or strong? make you feel something, other than yourself?
just want to know if i fit in between pages, or just in the corners of my mind.
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i want it all.
i feel it all.
i don’t want to settle.
can we really have everything in our dreams?
i have to hope.
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I'm doing 18 things
