Moving pictures

There comes a time when you have to accept that maybe the whole picture is way bigger than you could even imagine, little own understand.

And you realize that in your grasping desire to see the whole thing at once, you've been missing the beauty of the smaller picture, the one that your standing in right now, breathing

Things worth repeating

Even things that do not breed or breathe still have their secret life.

Love forever xo

The lies that you stole from me, you can keep
I dont need you to know just how simple the truth is.

When too crazy isn't mad enough

You've given up second guessing the truth
times hands constantly moving,
waving you on and in
the latest model of insanity
wearing you out
on her armband of anything goes
like this.

I try to tidy my mind,
from the outside in,
But the world turns inside me
making this mess
with words that once meant something
panting to get no point across
it's softness I'm after
and I never was the sharpest tac.

On heat

Walking through the fire of your faith
in what you can not believe
and everything I'll never prove
the lust of eternity
turning into ash
if it can't burn you.

signals deny this house on fire
The smell of smoke sticks
following the dancing shadows
alight with the passion
too clever to catch
too hot to manhandle
But I am a woman
ready heady yet steady
on Love.

the human animal

Almost a horse,

not quite a scapegoat

dreaming of a different me

and the documented proof

of how we flew.

fleshing out feelings

in between the black and the white

lines of lies

we tell ourselves

to calm our minds

from what her closed eyes see.

floating delicately 

crossing hooves and heart

no longer need to hope to breathe

dancing across this mind

never forget there's animal Inside 

besides me.

Pieces of us

The air between us thickens sticky in between my fingers

grip slipping 

sweating the stuff that makes this up

all the things I tried to say

 the way I moved my body

wearing away

time against the stones

of mountains reflections

If I reach my arms out like this theres nothing can escape me

I can hold your dreams in place

but I wont let you 

believe me. 

arguments with robots

It's time I said something
about the fog and the blood,
The need for sleep,
and ache in my side gently reminding me I'm alive.

They said it's nice to have someone to talk to
but this isn't talking, not a conversation with robots.

But my weapon isn't what I think, It's the way I move through space
It's the look I saw in your own eye, and the whole dream sequence I lived and learned through.
It's my willingness to not make sense and mean it.

Here you might hear fingers figuring figments in space
limiting meaning not only to your own imagining or mine,
but something inbetween, (which apparently isn't even a real word)
 and way beyond,
where the laws of grammer don't matter,
because it's not about understanding
its about what I said.