what makes me feel alive?
camera in hand, eyes capture a different light, otherwise unnoticed.
an old friend, bonds of authenticity only time can create. sharing those feelings you are scared to even admit to yourself.
foreign words, i am surprised by my own lyrics. escape without a thought and return an awkward glow. speak to me and i will shine.
family dynamics, sacred and ever-changing. appreciating each person for their unique contribution, positive or negative.
the ocean’s lullaby rocking me into a shivering sleep. sedated are my walks - i am in the ‘zone’.
the ability to focus and accomplish using creativity and business savv.
the freedom and confidence to be ‘me’, whatever that moment feels.
creativity and its subjective results. i ask you not to judge.
Filed under: life | Tags: changes, critique, growing up, society, spiritual
strides a bit longer. distance now too short. she walks that line - of gut. of mind. her faith is stolen. another silent footstep and she carries on, background noise a chaotic reality. she cannot hear the authenticity of her own voice. in time, she no longer notices. welcome to adulthood.
bunny cant even remember us. Memory’s the struggling strands of canvas on the journal’s edge. Children are no longer. Little brothers, grown men. Memories, the linking chain in the mist of time. Foggy cries. Clouds that shine. A belly to her bosom tenderly real. A fallen leaf on a winter day touched by a ray of light. Nocturnal flow with a destination. Reservoir of doubts. Fighting the roaring winds. Knowing what you don’t want to. Accepting the sacred regret. Changing to be different. The hair. The smile. The boobs. The nose. But the turmoil remains under the superficial verbage of strength. Blonde to brown. Plain to style. By the next cut all will change. A new place, you think. You will have him back. Less tears, more smiles this time. Heart envelopes ration and suffocates doubt. A light bulb without the shade. Awkward and lonely no more. your hair grows. your waist does, too. the only thing that remains constant is You.
Filed under: life
The years have glided
Visions incomplete
Slipping through the
Palms
Of my hands
Like an
Uncomprendable
Sliver of time.
Merely a slice of the pie
Whose flavor
Equates
The entirety of most.
i like to walk. it helps me think. i like to write for the same reason. there you have it. welcome.
