Be sure to stoke the fire. You're gonna want it hot for what's coming next.
The whisper is not a whisper. It is a conversation - persistent. The waiting is only postponing. As you have requested, the conversation will continue. Consistent, present - persistent. The whisper is not a whisper.
Sometimes it’s like this:
Stripped down, bare bones. Handfuls of dirt, clinging to the earth.
Bold propositions. Expectant, waiting.
I know the news is coming.
Keep your house clean. You can be sure there will be visitors.
Let the breeze come in and freshen the air. Eliminate the thoughts that belonged to another time.
Come into this morning all ears. Everything is talking.
Come into this morning all ears, everything has something to say.
I trust the tender bow of the branch that bends as I walk out on a limb. Life has brought me here again and again. And as the tensile strength gives way to the ethers, it's time for me to leap.
Love me with the lights on. I want to see the contours that mark the intricate memory of you.
Romance fades in the daylight, unless it's made there too.
Holding back this force, this dam is pressurized and pasteurized by the sanitized way we’ve learned to be free, which is no freedom at all.
I was studying the leaves to learn from them.
I noticed how easily they let go. Gentle, unassuming, bright yellow, whispering their way to the ground.
Layers of flesh dissolved by the hand of your words, painting me naked, until I have no skin.
Until the warble of my heart is no longer my own.
There is no such thing as alone.
I s t r e t c h e d membranes and tore apart herds of screaming animals inside to lay down false armor and find the character beneath the fight.
Guttural cry rumbling up from the depths of my belly, feet planted firmly on the earth, I see you, and I stand my ground.