Secrets

Thoughts, dreams and desires, laid bare

[locked-cellar-door]

the Rain has stopped and the Streets are soaked and the Lights are gold and it's Everything.

[locked-cellar-door]

It's 6pm. Pitch-dark outside. If it was raining, it would be perfect. I want to sit in a street cafe with a cup of coffee, or perhaps some tea. I want to look through huge glass windows, and see the rain pounding the black assphalt, the street lamps and headlights reflecting off the road. I want to look up and see you there. Here with me. You would be drawing, or writing something, your head propped up one hand. When you look up at me I quickly look out the window again, but my smile would give me away. And you would smile, too. That sounds nice, I think. Don't you?

[locked-cellar-door]

far too many paths to follow far too many open doors wishing, hoping, just to wander down a road that meets with yours

[fooool-of-a-took]

"as red runs faster"

as red runs faster

orange spins around and ‘round we go

while yellow makes a joyous sound.

green whispers through oceans of forests and blue skies

won’t purple ever come out to play?

maybe, someday,

we’ll all go out to play

and all know that it should be that way

for ever and a day

[e-e-cummings]

i shall imagine life is not worth dying,if (and when)roses complain their beauties are in vain but though mankind persuades itself that every weed’s a rose,roses(you feel certain)will only smile

e. e. cummings (via e-e-cummings)

[locked-cellar-door]

The Roots

The roots don't matter do they?

Tomorrow cares nothing for yesterday

Shuffled baggage left behind             forgotten 

Sour milk wiped up thrown away             forgotten

Care-worn baby doll tossed aside             forgotten 

People change— identities never want to

Claim check residue a warm embrace are what remain

Move on live your damn life

The roots don't matter anymore

They're just what's most important

[locked-cellar-door]

This song

Pure joy, sweetness, Sorrow kisses my ear, Erupts out of me I'm bursting at the seams Its here with me, only me, Moves through me, over me, into me Revolves, involves me Into sweet harmony I ache with the weight of it All intentions caught in tension Suspended in blissful air Heartstrings stretched tight Streams of living, beating melody and rhythm All that matters, all that was Meeting all that ever will be My opus, my culmination Unstoppable force, immovable object I collide with myself And I am the result— All that remains When the Universe closes His eyes And listens, glistens, shines It is and it isn't It can’t and it can— It will nonetheless Rhapsody in white noise Static of infinite voices Joined in perfect symphony This is my song This song is me Sing.

[locked-cellar-door]

dreams.

our dreams of sweetest subject— though linger they may along  the wistful journey out of slumber— forever escape ere we wish; but upon waking, truly, neath the folds of consciousness, these hold dearest to our hearts.