fragments.

5/22/13

Some nights the world explodes

not from all the movement,

not from all that is happening,

not from all that I feel,

but from a simple

lack thereof. 

5/19/13

Your words are the cool, cotton sheets

I crawl into when I’m feeling disconsolate

or homesick

for dandelion-wishes-and-ice-cream-truck summers. 

“(Her) count of enchanted objects had diminished by one”.

Matthias Kronfeld Jordan - RAWartists.org

“A thrilling chase
A wondrous place
For you and me”.

The world is too small for you and me. We’ll run out of places to run to.

I am starting to realize that there is nothing more attractive than someone sincerely and passionately dedicated to following his or her heart. And lately, I also find myself increasingly more turned off by people putting their dreams on hold when they don’t have to, in favor of an often pointless convention or sense of stability. It’s like wringing out all the life, the zeal, the outrageous, and the interesting from a person, leaving but a shadow, a mere shape with no defining features. Show me your heart, your eyes, what makes you tick, what makes you love. Show me you love, you hate, you move. Show me your uncontrolled, your uncalculated, flawed and rampant madness.

04/25/13

Some days stand tall and unassuming, as independent entities disconnected from — and for that matter, grander than — the chronology of life.  With effortless grace and simplicity, these moments reveal the answers I had forgotten I sought. And may be because I’m lucky, or rather, sincere, these truths don’t feel overwhelmingly perfect or big or foreign. They become the longed-for relief in a restful nap on cool white sheets, with affectionate fingers stirring me awake.