I want to be where the mountains are, where the clouds will walk with me. I want to breathe in, and breathe out art, fill my lungs with all these things - I cannot describe to you. I want to sit between trees who are wiser in years than any book I have ever met. To sing with birds, who’ll teach me songs from another Earth, from when she was young - young, like me craving passing words from vagabonds on my way from shop to forgotten shop. Ones with trodden lawns and creaky rooftops, and cracking shelves, holding books I will pay for in wisteria, buying bits and scraps of euphoria. A utopia. Free of senseless, broken nostalgia - he will be hiding beneath my feet. I want to laugh with a child, who’ll kick his ball in my path. And I will kick it back, in exchange for the worlds he has so far seen. Then I will travel there, maybe cut my hair, maybe cut my teeth on curiosity. I want to go for tea, perhaps with the Queen, or with the fella who sleeps on corner streets; I’ve heard he loves to share. I want to dare, I want to be so incredibly complex yet the simplest feeling you’ll never forget. I don’t want you to faze me, please don’t try to contain me, I’m afraid I have stories dripping from my lips. I don’t want you to grasp me, I want you to fight with cobras and lions before you understand what it is that kept me up that one night, before you realize why I am so afraid of dogs, why I am so in love with the garden on my windowsill.
I am waiting, still. Where the mountains are not and where it hasn’t rained for days. But last night I heard thunder, I smelled petrichor, so I am packing my heart and bags.
origamiaround
romaincrisis
blakekathryn
ellievsbear
annaxmalina
turnnoffyourmind
