LilThought
03-21-2003, 11:08 PM
Hey fellow fishies,
I'm not really sure what I am trying to say in it. I guess I am thinking about just taking the time to look at the sky when it changes colors, to pull emotions out of myself when I'm really hurting, and pretending to paint the sky with them all.
Imagine, the sky
Imagine, the sky (naked delicacy)
sitting helplessly above my arms,
long, collapsible perches favoring the air;
the sweet florescence of melancholy,
drifting through misty secrecy,
a breath of hushes caressing my ears—
into a mimicry of silence—
ancient ruin, primeval antiquity,
insolent fire flies, sighing.
As I listened, I foraged all the world,
just to scent the saddest sound of sounds,
euphoria’s missing echoes, revelry forgotten
in the hum of painted wings, swimming feathers
and a sea of crafted butresses, welcoming tear dwellers
into anguish, the boundaries of
heaven’s only suffering choir, sorrow sisters,
singing hearts, crying,
together.
All of this,
within an instance of dreariness, shy dreamer,
sleepless schemer, and I,
diving into a whimsical sky, solely;
my hands looking upward, softly—
language moving out of words,
the sweetest temperament alive.
Imagine, the hues
streams of savor, hinting me forward;
the palest stars, the swiftest colors,
attainable,
all a glimmer and glistened,
the bluest rainbow of rainbows.
This somnolent sky, weary walker
fainting, but never falling,
passive vertigo, flailing and flaying,
endlessly, incessantly—
Unable to touch the ground,
Unwilling to flee the moment,
I, far below, holding on tight,
Pushing the wind in a couplet of woe,
My stained, ashen face, my dismal lips embraced,
me, lost in adoration, lucrative reflection,
thought exploration,
swallowing my souls annulled epitome,
as I, once more, imagined the sky.
JLM
I'm not really sure what I am trying to say in it. I guess I am thinking about just taking the time to look at the sky when it changes colors, to pull emotions out of myself when I'm really hurting, and pretending to paint the sky with them all.
Imagine, the sky
Imagine, the sky (naked delicacy)
sitting helplessly above my arms,
long, collapsible perches favoring the air;
the sweet florescence of melancholy,
drifting through misty secrecy,
a breath of hushes caressing my ears—
into a mimicry of silence—
ancient ruin, primeval antiquity,
insolent fire flies, sighing.
As I listened, I foraged all the world,
just to scent the saddest sound of sounds,
euphoria’s missing echoes, revelry forgotten
in the hum of painted wings, swimming feathers
and a sea of crafted butresses, welcoming tear dwellers
into anguish, the boundaries of
heaven’s only suffering choir, sorrow sisters,
singing hearts, crying,
together.
All of this,
within an instance of dreariness, shy dreamer,
sleepless schemer, and I,
diving into a whimsical sky, solely;
my hands looking upward, softly—
language moving out of words,
the sweetest temperament alive.
Imagine, the hues
streams of savor, hinting me forward;
the palest stars, the swiftest colors,
attainable,
all a glimmer and glistened,
the bluest rainbow of rainbows.
This somnolent sky, weary walker
fainting, but never falling,
passive vertigo, flailing and flaying,
endlessly, incessantly—
Unable to touch the ground,
Unwilling to flee the moment,
I, far below, holding on tight,
Pushing the wind in a couplet of woe,
My stained, ashen face, my dismal lips embraced,
me, lost in adoration, lucrative reflection,
thought exploration,
swallowing my souls annulled epitome,
as I, once more, imagined the sky.
JLM