lalalalazhenya
You size me up,
with your dreary eyes and
that flat smoke smell.
The chapped lips and dry hands
remind me of the old man,
who used to sit at the bench and
look up at those stars
like they were his dream.
The stars are long dead and
that cigarette is at it's last drag.
A cold gray stare your eyes can give,
all you think about is what was and
what could have been.
I used a compass,
2 days ago?
it told me the way to a beautiful place.
where trees are tall and the sky is the blanket
keeping them warm.
I didn't get lost,
instead I found out exactly where I am supposed to be.
I experience the fresh air of a cold winter night
as it enters my lungs and
almost painfully,
I exhale.
It is the mountains speaking,
it is the wind at my back
it is the act of living for today.
The amount of this,
the amount of that,
equals the perfect amount of
this and that.
Now logic won't you hear me speak?
The amount of trees within that green wood
found within your eyes
and the amount of mountain fresh breath
found at the crevice of your neck.
A barrel floating through the sea,
with messages of the people to those they
think are far away.
Hopefully it reaches them,
the people close their eyes and envision
that note with words written, I miss you,
in the hands of the people thought long forgotten.
Now is the time to breathe, clear my head. What is to come may be the change I need
and it may also be the death of me, but living right now, I won't worry for tomorrow. What I feel is pertinent to the present-- nothing else exists.
Play with fire, and you can get burned is what they tell me. But I look up at the stars and remember the embers of the burning wood, and the warmth it brought when everything seemed dark. I play with fire like we're friends and sometimes it may hurt but I remember. I always remember that it was there for me when I needed it most.
It is the procedure of the heart in love that is beyond the scientific method, one can prove that simply by falling, deep.
In actuality I control it, breathe in, exhale and I clench my fist: a smirk upon my face
and I walk away.
What do I know? I can't hear your thoughts, I cannot hear your heart beat.You are far away
and what I do know? Well that is the only thing that seems clear, who knows what I know.
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writing since 2012 · 13 entries · 13 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Zhenya showed up.
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the words Zhenya reaches for
eyesamounthearstatestarsremembernowbreathneckheartfarclearbreatheexhaleplayfire