deathsnarration
the orchestra was loud; too loud for me to think or talk.
which was good, i didn't need to do either. for days now, all my thinking and talking did was get me in trouble.
trouble was the last thing i needed.
my thoughts come and go at all hours of the day and night.
some real possibilities, most abstract,
yet they all lead back to you.
you're what my heart wants and what my mind knows it shouldn't have.
coin your original idea, get a patent.
get a patent to hope one of the 7 billion other people on this planet don't use your same original idea.
a patent to protect something that comes to many as your own.
if spring is the rebirth of mother nature, autumn is the deathbed.
slipping away in the silence, leaves like the last breaths falling so effortlessly.
falling into a slumber, the cycle continues and mother nature will awaken once again.
writing since 2011 · 4 entries · 4 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Hunter showed up.
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the words Hunter reaches for
patentmothernaturefallingoriginalidealoudtroublespringrebirthautumndeathbedslippingsilencebreathseffortlessly