New artsy dining tables,
blue vintage-ish sleeper sofa,
An apartment on the river,
A new star delivery,
My favorite parts of town,
And just so much more beautiful serenity twined serendipity.
Counting the dreams until settled.
I’m going everywhere it calls ❤
You coming? 🙂
Let my hair rest on your shoulders,
As my skin touches yours,Like fingers fascinated by frosted windows, Etching stories of my desire as a vellum of the gambler’s debts to the men of numbers.
Whispering of all the blue moon’s since the beginning of this Moirai reckoning dipped in each eventide.
Feel the opacity of my hunger for only you in my throaty psalms of names between the desperation of frenzied taste and scented famine.
Empty all the final heedless murmurs just before bodies leave rosettes of love’s liquification on the edges of Aurora’s balmy infancy of beyond any and all of this.
This world is and isn’t ours to hold on to anymore.
Words: M(e.)Twilight Temple Tresses: a6a7
Songs of Seamlessly Stitched Sanity: https://youtu.be/Sn3-1kvv6u4
Present to myself goal in 18 months as I sing the end of the dead breed and learn to be a sinner saint.
Wicked red forty eight special fits baby. Watch the dust, please.
Black velvet hair and first time banshee bangs sound divine in the mean time.
Don’t think I’ll recognize myself either. Good thing,
I’m going to outrun the bounty you think you still have on me.
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.
Wrap me completely into your violent shiver.
Stick your fervor to my ribs,
Until the tar of your cinders
Swallows me whole.
The moans stuck behind the bone when it collides into the loss of chastity.
Dangle this body from the stars you have collected,
Until a silver lining coaxes death from the gallows of time to share a dream,
a drive to all the infinity of the ochre light that keeps touching the clouds while we sleep.
Then we’ll know,
The languages of tomorrow and all the ways sunrises dance gleefully into existence when no one’s looking.
I’ll take it all
Now, That’s living baby.
Appreciative of the lesson despite my annoyance of wasted time.