Ducks. Snow. Tamed memories.
Little things I remember.
Your presence. Essence. The place in the world your had.
Pentagram, in a logical place.
Never, ever, even being.
Your words that saved me. And these little things I do.
Pain gone. That’s a comfort.
I’m trying. Trying to be worthwhile.
Desolation the empty. Insidious clouds empty snow. But they are fleeting.
Worthwhile? What is that to a tiny snowflake? To a duck on the lake waiting out the rain?
The world, the essence of it, comes from our little bits of time.
Yours, to breif.
Purple sky darkens
I cannot apologize for this present marking
Sealed with my lonely life
Peeled like a bone thife
Why I’m so cold, distant from plight
Partly my thoughts, partly my fright
Scared like I am
Of all these thing that can and have
Traumatized by their shouts and fights
Mind anexity going at the speed of light
Part and marshal, white distance frightful
Will any grass grow in my barren mind?
Salted as it is by hate, cold, hard, fire and brimstone that isn’t even real
It’s my birth of the color
Caution, doors open outside your head but inside your mind
And mine were shut such a long time ago
You were the only one who ever opened them
Trees sitting still in autumn rain
Sometimes, music comes to me
Pain, goes and sits and watches
It’s just a reminding present
Of my body’s sore and broken promises
Past my mistakes and indeed was it fate?
Decided and debating and devised
In my head it’s always active like a new hive
White is my life, grey woman is my namesake
But new green, shoots and roots
Grow in my hair
I’m sure they’ll be the new trees ready to stand
Still in the autumn rain
Down by the course dirt lane
The hard presence of the pebbles
Cutting the hot sun baked grasses
It’s grasshopper, working to raise the littlest flags
His tiny little empty empire has hard times
Drought and floods, growth and death
They both come as a hash brown
Sand wasps and birds seek him out
Each with a different evil agenda
If either are successful his empire ends
Nothing left but his little flags
To be rotted out next flood
Or burned by a forever sun
Grasshopper has to raise his flags
To bring a mate
Will his family be a reality?
Like white sheets in the wind
Sometimes they hold rain
Throw down lightning and hail
Then wispy little ones like scales on a fish
Sun comes in this sky
Changes it heat from day to day
Through the clouds
They eat her rays gladly
Wind chases them like a little child chases butterflies
Ground is changed by these clouds
Hit ground with rain and plants come through the pavement
Hit the ground with hot dry sun
Hit the ground with mist
A succulent kiss on the ground from the clouds
Listen to the whole hootI don’t care who you moot
It’s the owls erection
Feathers and a fuel
Found your stool?
Blackberries leaking literally
A hooted obituary
Rights to the valedictory owl
Lights from faded
Little ants crawl
Leaves flowing into my body
I’m a pretty little thing, even in death
Rotting at my full body
A little more time
Their is a fox that loves to forage in my foyers
Birds in my eves nesting
Wasps are taking the little insects out fighting a endless tiny war against the spiders
With wight a wings a seed pod falls from a kurrajong
My foyer becomes its home and soon I watch it grow
Down the roots fall and dig
My basement has a little more Earth in it now
Then I feel like I will be gone soon
My floors start to crumble
Gradually the gradient gives into a flight of pivotal moments
Trickle the droplets pulled into a flicking daze
Shiny glaze from my warmth
Soft warm flesh, nonetheless a sensualist tickle play
Tendrils, tendrils pointing fractals of my petals
Biting then down on the honey, triplet a covert action
Nipple, tickle, the prickles and teeth out to bite to your furry might
Fight, fight it with a kiss firm and fully aware
Rubbing down to the bones
Thrusting until I let go of all this and more
Striped theith, you stole my honey heart
Shine on that spring sunshine
I’ve got that green and yellow on my mind
I taste the air, I take my time
Down wattle road, see the sign
All those suits, give into the grind
I’ve never seen people so blind
The wattle road is very kind
Flowers green and gold for all their lives
I’m taken by this weekend bold
The frosts still grasps at being being cold
I’m not going anywhere else in the world except wattle road
Loosing my emptiness, download my new emotion
String cheese devotion on a jalapeño mistake
In high times, the waiting for fates to boast
Toast with traffic jam, brunch with cantaloupe sunrise