salt creek @jasonvalley - Tumblr Blog

I saw Izzy fall again. Restless in my empty views. Izzy would rest another time before me. In agony I see where you plan a boring turn. Do you know how much you bend? It's treacherous in some ways.

Izzy followed me once into far reaches. Like a pull of strengths to straws of a nearly empty cup. There was a space near a station. A Kmart non familiar with a lack of parking spaces. A place of watching signs. A place of rushes. A place on unsteadiness.

I hear the faint chants from a void again. I know it to by Izzy at a distance. Waves of striped clothing now and again. I hear your whispers loud as yells. Goosebumps cross my mind. Carly Beth and the full moon falls again.

Izzy can't recall fainting. But I can recall the fall upon crying. Izzy talks about nerve shaking. But I saw the way meant to me biting. Izzy teeth's around creatures. But I long the way I felt the way sighing. Izzy breaths the worlds into smoke aching. But I rush the wave as I sit fighting. And she eats the world. As she meets the floor. And I can't help the way I feel crying.

And I hold with the slightest intent the gaze left scraping at its core. Izzy plays in funny ways. We used to scare one another in the dark. I still see you sometimes. It hurts at a quickness.

Izzy swore to never look into my eyes for longer than a decades the. In season's passing I reconcile in the wake of a sacred space. To which of known of fulls of doubts. To each their own them envy pools of words flow out of gaps of teeth. In plenty fulls insake at the bouts of taims of less. Like elders do at the passing of reconsiders. At the plensentry awoke the pits of plenty. Within the belly of a bull. Within the belly of a rotting. The smell of which can haunt you still. I remember those rooms. I remember the wooden floors I sat on. I know they burned after hours. A flame upon sunset. I beg of you to lessen your grip Izzy. I beg of you to step. As you once did but hover with stillness.

Izzy at ease. Rest on my shoulder, a weight in your funny moments. Izzy can't fly even though Izzy has wings. One day, I'll grow wings. Even at the height of fear I hold, I wish to float. Even at the fear of depths, I wish to float. Izzy rests upon unsteady. Izzy repeats the worst of plenty. Befriended a heaviness one can choose. But lands where Izzy falls is where I fight rest. Like a cloak heavy above me, I urge at most. I tumble still. I tumble at the walk of Izzy's pace. Izzy holds revenge in a palm. Hits me like a ton of bricks. Weighs me down like a kiss. Makes me feel like I exist.

Izzy told me to empty my last given selves to fools pulled around breaths. Move as steady as possible. Move past a wealth of the things that turn my given gut into abyss. Izzy speaks to me on Tuesdays at most. More frequent than before. With stronger amplitude before my candle lit guts. I spill before thee. I spill at a turn of regrets.

Do you also know the ways to exist on a different medium? A man taught me when I was a kid just how to do so. Surrounded by crates of agony under the tile ceilings that move while the bass trembles is where I would sink into a flood of waters. It drowned out the tunes of the 70s being wrapped in a cardboard sentiment. It drowned the warped textures of a faint yell that would be etched on a sheet of plastic. Is is the room where I would hold a data disc in my hands build in Japan. Memories that I'd wonder of for years to come. I remember those discs. I'll never know what was on them. But once Izzy returned after a brief spells and castings into the outer world, the feeling of them discs returned again. I can tell some people about this. I can tell some people about this. I can tell some people about this. I can tell some people about this. I can tell some people about this. This week I feel like I hear Izzy more frequently than I have in years time. I miss our conversations in the near the creek. I miss our beings floating above the changing leaves. It creeks, it burns. It creeks, it burns. It creeks, it burns. I say under a fleeting star before my very eyes. As I melt under you. Oh Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun. Please, please, please, I beg of you, shine down on me. The child within my heart is asking of you, to please shine down so he can play with you. Oh, Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun, please shine down on me.

I think it's on Tuesdays I think of it much. The things we do, say and such. Fault of mine and fault alone. Care to me, against my own. It is on Tuesdays I repeat a pressing thought. It was on a Tuesday I held a certainty. I briefly paused. I briefly stood. Above an open field of every time. I weigh the cards of only ghosts. Those that might not known of this realm. An open turn of faults I know. They don't exist. I told you so.

Do you also know how to harbour?

Izzy likes to float above. Thin as a breath against your shouts again.

a continue of pitter patters against thoughts. endless and nameless between the aggressions of purities. in moons time, i say again. i flee among a floating star. i flee inside the crate of gravity and spite. i flee in a net of faults. to fault of trys and fault alone. i swim among the ever glass.

on a tuesday, izzy hit a snag. copper wire wrapped to have metal meet metal. i see the rust again. its too close to me. i fear it nears my sight. i hear a whistle yet again. a light tap dance on my mind.

tap, tap, tap.

On samples of denial to fall into oblivion. Izzy wrote to me on a rotating dial. One two, one two. I see you floating to your screen. I can still hear Izzy in the presence of the waters. Tread carefully as we did, please.

grasping at all the words within my throat

we go way back, and you have no clue.

izzy used to wrestle mind all between the yards. still like the shadows that streched across the green plain. we rest you still like rocks on mud. stick like glue, you fall for it all. these days. i see you in slights. we go way back, and you'll never find a why. you'll never find a how. things like then are buried with the rocks. levitate once more.

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