Roostglinting ripples reflect in my eyesshards of molten gold, melding and dancing with the blue of the skymy back is cold, my face is warmthe bark behind me gives slightly under my weight andi amcontentsimply breathing, reminiscingrelishing in the easy perfection i feelfor instancethe air here is somewhere between warm and coolits motions speak to me and anyone else who will stopfocusdreamand the intonations of the feathers above mefirst startlethen sootheit's been a long dayand i can just see the clouds turning purple as i tip my head backso tiredstretch my legs outexhausted reallydrop my arms across my stomachthink i'll take a page out of that bird's bookand stare at the skymy eyes fall shuti taste the endfinally.
Voices No Human RemembersWhen the clouds come, the desert grows silent and strangeAnd the highways are gone, and the towns fade awayI can still feel the steps that were walked here beforeI hear voices no human remembers.Here, the wind bears a mark of the lives that are goneAnd it howls them a bone-chilling dirge in the darkShrieking anguish and torment of soul and of mindWith the voices no human remembers.But the valleys won't talk of what was long agoAnd the mountains speak nothing, they only echoAll the fear of a cold winter, lost in the yearsAnd the voices no human remembers.Oh, in some other world there is life rolling onThere is clean air and sunlight and hope for the dawnBut on this lonely stretch of Nevada highwayWhisper voices no human remembers.
DisorderedThere it is. That feeling of fading away, falling out of the real world and into the strange place where I can't breathe, I can't breathe, and the words won't stop pouring from my head in relentless torrents with the memories and the thoughts I know aren't true because they're dark, they're cold, they're surreal in all the worst ways and it cuts me to the core every word I remember, everything I see, it's all gone leaving nothing but this sensation that somehow something isn't right and I have to get away, I need to spread my wings and remember how to fly but I can't and oh, there it is, that black and grey and blue hidden somewhere in my heart that tells me strange things at night when I try to sleep you'll never be good enough, you can't make it, we both know how your head is the perfect specimen of cubism, of disjointed failures with just enough s
Spring CleaningAnd the mountainsides are changing with the seasonsRearranging and redecorating just in time to celebrate the spring.The trees are trading their bare barks for buds and squirrels, ants and larks;The Holly slows and sleeps, again the Oak is King.
SnapperImpenetrable.Rough exterior.Fortress, walls, anger,scars on thick skin.Reeling back from the pain,still trying to heal,still bleeding inside.Soft heart -tender.
This MomentI'm watching.Mountains shrouded, misted over, leaving green-patched swaths.Notice.Clover left by last year, tinged with red.Tread softly.Footfalls, rhythmic, muted by damp ground and tangible air.Grey.Sky, land, mind - all translucent, semipermeable, silent.This moment.