Dark blue flamingos in an empty basement ( wolfe in chelsea)

Screenshot_2020-01-18-13-44-04~2Smoky quartz made floor, crumpled thoughts where you’re not sure what those that told about what was yelled at the top of their lungs are of malice. no congratulations, vibes brought down, sheltered in what to say. study from those that make sense to my soul. Not the same, stayed away. Taken too personal. Not around is what is yearned for at times by the unwelcome. Other countries, other states, not wanting the surroundings of competitive natures. Can’t always handle the handling of when presence isn’t wanted. In a tone of green and blue, going fast. The sea of wishing for a thousand instances of regularity.

1.3 miles, Where are you headed?

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Too ope- I mean, closed. Parallel signs- we’re one in the same. Attracted to who brings the dark in the same way a person would love one to bring in something luminescent. The proposed disturbing threat of beings- twin to a figure moving fast past a window while everyone sleeps. Confusion is her demeanor- her head tilts looking through- her eyes and eyebrows  are the polar opposite of white- she’s an elder- a native of America with browned golden skin (lead by the image). Drifted off for a minute….back now…… understanding that rises always want to be made. It seems that after magical happenings, a character that was legendary with two ponytails makes a guest appearance. Mischievous smiles. Every day.

O hhh…

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The ‘want’ or they won’t. Correction- will there be any? Doubt is amongst at least half. Hate that this is even a topic. Solemn- darkest of the darkest tunnels. When the face steps to standing, the light of 7:00 will be an understatement. The same walks with the same bop. So refreshed in the same usage of what was said on leather seats. The sun felt like hot coal on the ground. The works of fire won’t be able to compare to what will be felt when your rainfall pours into June’s creation.

Low

 

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Closer. Staring at the images. To the core, I want nothing else. The thought comes, but it evaporates. Waiting- tirelessly. The taste is at its peak- it draws down. The level goes up each time. Searching for the newness of ‘numb’-it’s lost. The continuation of falsehoods. In the nightdream you were the same- I smelled you- I wanted to taste you. Videos are there. Your same gaze. For you there should be certainty, for me it would be preposterous. To think the heart and mind should be void of questions. It slides like melted butter in a pan.

Bloarange Callers

 

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Kept alive through dreams. The view is equivalent to a character of 2003’s best. Unattainable. The epitome of settled nerves. Enough has to be enough. Living in this moment. No rattled shakes. I still don’t wanna hear the term. I only wanna see the smile. I knew I wasn’t the only. Scared of the look of: ‘fill in the blank’. I welcome how he is now. It takes skill to get to that. Accents, fast talks, brunches. We stepped over and through toys that morning. The song played. So many things proved what this was- what that was……

 

You’re Not Saying

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Permanently destroyed. No forward motions. Despising the smallness. Anticipating the stomach aches- hating the high pitched squeals. On the alternative. To regret what I initially waited for. The chaos at night. The stabbing little prickles dated back to the month of December. Ever revolving. Always the noise. Awkward stances. Away from what exited into glass or plastic cases. Voices that I can no longer process into the file of what I partly miss. Why is it that some days are always Sundays?

Black

Not my territory- but the same deja vu. The same scents back to a time when what ‘is’ now- was only a secret desire. The laughs from squinted mechanical-like eyes. A different person had this soul then. No add ons, a slender frame- both- but the situation was large. Saw droplets of red and the time spent became minimal. Rode down a county line after a phone call…..a memory from the past, never resurfaced. We had it..a part of history that had so much.,..below the surface.

Lying a Belief

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The start-over of mincing words. Annoyances, intersections, and calls from miles away. No matter how much effort it takes to escape down the hole, the water rises as a raft- you would rather sink. Never not looking at the time, wanting it to move slower- or maybe faster- or maybe slower. I remember when the mornings were the worst. All of the arrows point to him. Letting your blood relation be misguided- only covering your antics, too late. Time waited for you, confused as to if the patience will have the same care with me….

Let’s Walk To The Store

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Coming close so many times. What I say I’ll regret. It’s best to keep every syllable inside of my lips. The corner, the edge, just about to slip – and fall – back down into the whirwlind. Scenes coming from classic films makes thoughts come to the forefront – it has two faces – I’m saving myself for the anticipated release. Filling myself with a space holder in liquid form. This is the hardest. Nothing acts as a numbing medicine after a while……..hurting……stuff.

The Gizzard Is The Best Part at 4 in the Morning

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Can’t help but think about this circle of life- things going or coming at full speed. So entirely restless. Stuck- who are we? Finding the answers, lying in the truth. Somewhere in this building past loves will be found, “love” was found- the androgynous- go to her, she needs you and you need her. Mixed in ways of the heart are suppressed, different feelings on different sides. To think that things will be different, I see you, the unseen.