Amongst the crowd, I see her captivating the attention of many,
At first I am amused by her zeal, I see her dance away to her heart,
Beauty to her tune, she lends light to myriad candles on the way.
She continues to flutter, but to no one does she belong to,
I beam at her tenderness with a will to blend in, to engulf her charisma.

Hearts of many she steals, leaving a question to the source of her radiance,
Enchanted in her lilt I ask, to which she unburdens an aching core.
Dazed I seek, how can you spark wonder when you are the owner of a bleeding past?
I carry her response day and night, for what she said was one’s desire.

If not for the pain, then how does one feel another’s withered wings?
The power of healing, I now realize, is the taste to dance without chains.
She departs leaving a print in mind’s eye with a final glow she says,

Nurture the inside burn, for that is the key to your bliss,
Bestow ecstasy to the neighbouring, get drunk in your freedom.
Waltz away to life’s symphony, Breathe Free.

Still so framed as promising
Even as the circumstances have changed.

Universe back in spirals,
Your eyes back in crystal lattice.

There is a particular way that the rain falls, gravity in mind when it does — severe,

When I'm reading rounds in between your lines.

You sit on the throne of the new regime.
Broke the idea the kind to be cruel is true when etched in stone.

De Stijl Darling.
Dutch Babe.

You stage this art-fiend Heaven,
Hypercatalyst blood into reality.

Handful of sudafed,
Your effect is the same,
When we shot through your canopy,
Sun on your hair —
Natural illuminated manuscript.

I hope you've latched on to me.

Spontaneity.
Is the compelling adrenaline worth the outcome?
To wonder why it is considered
an enticing form of rebellion
to those who do not bear its weight.
My admirable means, although impulsive,
represent
what my soul desires.

I want so badly to feel
not just know
the life living within me.

Cells of my heart,
what makes you stay
and stick
and love
in such efficient harmony?
What are the series of
coincidences
constructed into miracles
by some invisible hand
to let you be?
What are you, how are you?
To drop and fall into one -
pulse-
compelling me, luring me
to breathe, breathe
even under the anaesthetic of sleep.

I crave to know
how my body cups my soul
in a mirrored glass and not
a casket
or cage, if I wish.

And why the soul cries
even so,
so

I speak
to the ever and ever lying beyond the sky.
I ask

Please?

Dreams break and lines break
but don't let
my heart break

into me.
It is living.

And I don't yet know
what that means.

"Bring your gumboots and rain coat, we're going on an adventure"

Lost, going around in circles; embarrassing.
Rainy, sick, "Let's go".
Pizza! Closed... cue more embarrassment.

Car rides along the main street, soft music playing
"Can I borrow that towel for my hair?"
Picks place to eat.
"Let's become humans again"

Dry hair, deodorant, changing shoes.
Struggle...
Horn blaring.
"This looks weird. Windows fogging, horn going, scraggly hair"
Awkward belly laughs.

Best avocado burger and aioli chips ever.

When I was younger, my biggest desire was to travel.
Dreaming of swimming with dolphins in the Amazon River.
Dreaming of floating away to the Niagara Falls.
Dreaming of running all of the United States.
Dreaming bigger dreams than Martin Luther King, Jr could ever.
Maybe even go away in a hot air balloon until boredom struck.
See the highest peaks of the Earth, maybe until I’ve reached the gates of Heaven.
Have brunch with the President of the United States, or with a beggar I come across with on my journeys.
When I was younger, my wishes were beyond my reach
God’s angels seemed closer than my dreams could ever be.
And so, I made contact with one of God’s angels, as I floated on the cloud of my imagination.
This angel had brown eyes; hair fell perfectly every time
Perfection came to this angel without ever trying.
I fell for this angel faster than Lucifer fell from the glory of God, it was so unplanned and perfect.
Unplanned and perfect.
That was this angel’s method to everything in life:
Unplanned. Perfect.
Everything he did was unplanned and perfect.
It was… spontaneous.
He was spontaneous.
He was perfect.
The way he didn’t think about anything too much, and just did everything. Only thinking about things twice – or so it seemed. The way he didn’t have a planning sheet for life, he just wrote whatever came to his mind, like me. Except he didn’t write, he acted upon his thoughts. I literally write everything that comes to mind. But this angel? He acted. The finest actor that ever descended from Heaven.
Now, the perfection of his beauty leaves me speechless every time, making me a mime of some sort. The perfection of his beauty is marvelous, I just don’t know how to put it into words. All I can say is that, with this angel I’ve fallen for, I am somehow satisfied. Somehow, all the dreams I’ve been yearning for so long are brought to life at last.
The words he speaks flow perfectly - I promise you, I could swim in them. The ease of his tone makes me feel like I’m swimming in the Niagara Falls. Oh, and that laugh is so sweet and just as cute as the dolphins in that Amazon River I had wished to swim with.
He makes me feel like I’m running more than just the United States of America. This amazing angel gives me an adrenaline rush… I could run miles and miles. To him. To hug him. To kiss him. To get high off of his touch and feel oblivious.
God sent me the best transportation to the Gates of Heaven.
And this transportation is the most spontaneous and perfect.
This spontaneous piece of perfection is the best adventure, and I’m so ready to have brunch every day with that marvelous angel God sent.

There are some things very satisfying, laying down in a tub

Feeling the hard wet surface bear you
lingering warmth taken slowly as
edges again sharpen

Listening to the shower head drip
with out rhythm until the faucet opens
expelling water in the pipe
between the two

Watching a drop on the thin metal rim idle
waiting for solidarity to fall free
echoing through it’s enamel cask
to it’s end