lost?Sunlight on a sheet of ice. Dripping. Glitching. Sunlight through a window. A man-made window. Sunlight through the strawberry peach petals of a leaning flower.lost?
Sunlight on your back. Scorching. Cooling.
Sunlight on liquid steel. Trickling. Solidifying. Sunlight through a labyrinth. A mental labyrinth. Sunlight through the cobwebs that dance from wall to wall.
Sunlight on your face. Soothing. Smiling.
Sunlight disappearing. Fading.
boy 2Boy lost himself. Boy hid on the shelf. Boy couldn't take the din. Boy retreated within. Boy felt the break. Boy let it take. Boy let it burn. Boy had to learn. Boy went down the rabbit hole. Boy retrieved what no-one stole.boy 2
Boy knows you can't stay lost forever. Boy put the pieces back together.
boyBoy sitting cross-legged on a stool in the sky. Boy looking up with planets in his eyes. Boy tapping beats on a stomach-shaped drum. Boy waiting patiently for ideas to come. Boy trying to fill up empty slots. Boy remembering what others forgot. Boy laughing aloud as he tinkles the keys. Boy's fingers happy on the ivories. Boy writing songs to sing to the moon. Boy eating stars with an old wooden spoon. Boy juggling boxes full of bad words. Boy Chinese-whispering with inquisitive birds. Boy flapping wings but staying where he is. Boy's soul forgetting that it used toboy
somethingORother?Squashed by herbal hands into amorphous baby shapes and lit from within by chemical torches and light and heavy and giggling under an umbrella of contorted brows and eyebrow-raisingly spine-chilled and stomach warmed and skin tingle-lit by lightning buzzes and pulse rushes, painted into the scenery with psychedelic brushes and lost, lost, lost and found, found, found, safe and sound, at peace and in pieces and waiting but satisfied and bouncing on taut-pulled cowskin wood rhythms, hopping tango blasts and scattered raindrop beats and spider-fingered carousels wavering wandering wondering warbling wobbling &somethingORother?
cosmic gigglesSometimes, someone makes the motorways of intertwining vessels of blood and portals of stomachs whirl and swirl and tremble in the most lip biting fluttery way, like twelfty no-expenses-spared parades through the streets of internals. In no sickening biological way of course, oh no, the feeling is purely the metaphorical-unmatierial of connective explosives. Words are portals, although their presence isn't always necessary. Incessant candescant fleets of microscopic messengers flit silently spiralling with knowing notes which just you and i can see; inspecting through spectacles with lungfuls of fresh air. You can't see the air, bucosmic giggles
Devious Journal Entry
Gloomy
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"Poetry is the perfume of the soul." - Otep Shamaya
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Update: March 22, 2009: You can send your contact details to !Morologus-Es if you wish.
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Update: March 22, 2009: You can send your contact details to !Morologus-Es if you wish.
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Update: March 22, 2009: You can send your contact details to !Morologus-Es if you wish.
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<Gallery> <Featured> <Recent>
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Giiiggidy...
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<Gallery> <Featured> <Recent>
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Check out my gallery at [link]
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Music is the sound of all that science cannot explain.
Stick 'em up punk, it's the Fun Lovin' Criminals!
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