Sunday, August 13, 2006
A bit
of breathing time, to write. To type, as my chest heaves, bringing back neon memory..we don't breathe oxygen; we inhale sentiment, and aircon.
How Assumptionista.
A little flashback, to breathe in. To recall, as the motion ceased to be involuntary, requiring the strength of will to bite back emotion..til my cheeks fell against embraces that calmed my chest; up against others', that my highschool heart would ease as it listened to another's metronome.
I wanted to tell you it felt a little bit like Home.
Or a little bit more than the Home I assumed I had known.
Do anything. One night, to dance away weeks..hours to drink off lifetimes. A night can be a lifetime. A night can string together lifetimes. Fifteen..that's nothing. 12:01..a minute strung life lines together, and exploded in Happy Birthday to youuu's.
Or a little bit more than the Home I assumed I had known.
Do anything. One night, to dance away weeks..hours to drink off lifetimes. A night can be a lifetime. A night can string together lifetimes. Fifteen..that's nothing. 12:01..a minute strung life lines together, and exploded in Happy Birthday to youuu's.
No..no shyness
:-)
What did it feel like, to dance people away? What was it like, to move spin and never stop for cameras..cameras that clicked and whirled away blurs. Pink blurs. Shadowed eyes.
:-)
What did it feel like, to dance people away? What was it like, to move spin and never stop for cameras..cameras that clicked and whirled away blurs. Pink blurs. Shadowed eyes.
Did it feel like fifteen?
No, it felt like forever...or better.
No, it felt like forever...or better.
It felt like me.
It felt like..liquid light, or air shot through a hip. It felt like rain sinking into skin, and skin across lips. Constant motion, strobe light ocean. It felt like silk tearing into bloodstreams, and ripping up butterfly wings. It felt like tequila, rewiring my intestines, and sneaking into my subconscious.
I felt like me.
I remembered what it was like to need oxygen, and forget words..to enjoy sleep, but crave the waking. It is something else, entirely, to feel the sheets after the tightness in your heartstrings unravels. It is quite like the rush of roses you smell, with no haste; the flow of whispers you sink into, post-waterfall.
Who would've figured that the world could should and would be your World?
| {12:41 PM}
