All posts by light in the dark

Fragment -2.4

There was a time I would chase you.

One where I’d want to win so much I’d fold all my pieces I can tell you would adore before peacocking around in displays of a lesser love.

I’d flirt like an Eames Era harlot, victim, or assassin depending on the best to suit you.

These falseness fangs allude me most days now.

I’m tired.

More human than ever.

And it just doesn’t interest me really. Not quite like getting to know someone’s bones or celebrating their victories over their loses.

It’s left me on other planets.

Or swimming in tesseracts far from the fingerprints of such a vain instant gratification world.

Ultimately,

Left me in such solitude, I already so greatly admire and adore, I may just dissipate much like I appear.

So I leave it to everyone else to ask about what they need to know about me before just flittering back to the places stars are born.

I used to care about this more too.

I’d feel bad about owing someone something for their time or attention.

But it’s beyond me lately.

It’s my hair I’m growing to several feet of length for other dues or dedications.

It’s the only thing I can do after work for other people anymore.

Advertisements

Fragment 30.3

Too many choices make me nauseated.

At the end of the day I’m going to choose my children first.

I owe them.

I made them. Kept them. My duty to keep them.

My career.

A lot of people depend on me, including my aging family.

I owe them also.

They keep me soft, taught me love, and make it worthwhile.

My career is attached to my deep seeded altruism.

It’s the art I’m living.

And I took an oath.

A real one with 150 of my classmates.

I’m not going to waiver, ever.

Not even if it’s killing me.

Ask my angry, pain laden knee.

I’m stern about these things if necessary.

It’s never about anything but those things first.

I have no needs that are as important as this.

I have very few needs other than the smiles my precious littles carry because I kiss them before bed every night.

If you’re interested, be patient or choose the blonde instead of this brunette.

I’m incapable of giving those two things up.

I tried once,

Almost took my soul as penance.

If you have none,

I’m definitely made of nothing to see here, move along kindly.

And I whole heartedly am sorry and not at the same time.

Maybe I’m just like my father,

Just like my mother.

Fragments: Floating 1.0

Somehow,

I believe he holds all his favorite skylines in the recesses of his heart

A safe vibrant, little, large, brilliance given away by his laughter.

So, the clovers rise from beneath the cool earth.

I wait for the roses that grow from his sorrows, his doubts, his overthinking,

his words, his hold, his holy grins….him.

Fragment 30.0

He said was married for a long time,

Searching my eyes for a flickering flight.

Another time and his eyes would have melted every inch of my smile.

Any other time his body would have been a welcome visitor of beds between stop lights and stories of nights passed by.

But all that’s left of me,

Is just a fight to survive.

A long roadside explosion

Leaving next to nothing behind.

There are hours,

Days,

Years behind,

With a skip left to climb.

It’s looming so heavy,

Like my frame once had,

Like the 70 hour work weeks of the last 2 months have.

But it’s the year of the earth dog and I’m going to learn to swim in the serendipity again.

With the animals that know death is a figment because consciousness is bigger than that, the people that figure it out, and the scientists closer to proving it today ❤️

Fragment 29.444

Valentine’s for me isn’t about romantic love. I met my friend turned sister at a tragic comedy play after break ups at 15. It’s our 20th this year. What unique perspective it gives the Saint consumers holiday to say the least. This is life’s humor, life’s end game, the personal perspectives hidden behind more than what people think.

Even not here,

I wish you a thankful 20th on this rock of sorrow filled, comedic perpetuity. Our laughter, healing salve for hopefully another 70.

May it be whatever you need it to be, even celebrating this one with me ❤️

Egress Empire Epics

Paint a gypsy caravan on a new canvas. Imbue it with scarlets, ocher, burnt ashes, tangerine, tungsten and copper before you’re done.

A small space that doesn’t take much time cleaning yet expands into a worldwide way home because it’s not the earth any of us belong to just yet.

Write upon fond illusions, scrawling without fail and fear until the difference between the two lines meet like sockets and carpets that electrify everything near.

Facets of button boxes lining gothic metal bodies and other pieces of history that matters only to the roads and dive diners we discover.

Give life to living by making the storyline of hellos that turn into phone conversations about original prints and favorites with strangers almost bypassed in small square spaces.

Unwind the past into strings sparkling with possibilities as scarves soothe the skin of your lips and longing until days explode into riots of verisimilitude gilt of gold and vermillion breathes between tired days of winter and everything in the yonder.

Then knock gently three times before one enters because we must be different with the painters at rest. You have to care for the brushes and oils and liniment and colors to get them to bloom like oceans of wildflowers.