redyellow
immediately my brain turns to space, the regular irregularity of the movement of planets around the mood in an elliptical orbit. then my mind jumps to gum- orbit gum that takes care of dirty mouths, promoted by a sassy woman with a accent i can't place- and gum finally brings me to you. not sure how it began, but somehow it reassures me, your constant offering of gum when i'm down and nothing really can be done- it's better than nothing
models, mesmerized by their beauty, intrigued by their unbreakable focus and ferocity strutting down a platform that would be bare without them. to planes, a necessity for take off and landing. for both it offers support in the simplest of ways, by providing itself as something sturdy, reliable, unchanging.
one nation indivisible with liberty and justice for all, flashbacks to elementary school when the allegiance was spoken with absolutely no grasp of what it was actually saying. even now though, years past, i still can't quite explain.. what is liberty, freedom? do we truly have it?
a creature- fierce, violent, uncontrollable. often primitive or uncivilized. but savage most accurately describes the soul of the civilized- waiting to be released upon the first moment of anger, of unfettered rage
grease, on foods, on faces, on america. the source of so many problems, but so essential- immiscible with water. staining, hard to wash off
on even the prettiest of roses- a reminder than even the most beautiful things are imperfect.
i imagine acres of land, something extremely grand-- something left to an heir of an extremely wealthy fortune. extravagant, expansive, expensive.
desert, one s because you only want to go through it once. dessert, because i could always go for seconds. taken back the moments when spelling was my biggest concern and when school consisted of learning of animals, plants, and the wonders of the nature we'd never experienced in the concrete jungle
exhaustion, black slumping, unable to get up. sinking deeper and lower into your seat while the droning of the professor goes on. it's not comfortable, but it's natural- rude? perhaps.
i just remember growing up and playing with marbles. usually clear, often a mix of the most beautiful shades of blue and green. rolling them about tabletops and floors. hearing the sound of them against the surface and of their collisions. i remember the excitement of fishing them out of those bottles of japanese soda and wanting it more than anything in the world, even though i had dozens easily accessible. reminders of math problems from childhood- probability, estimation, and arithmetic, of physics from high school- gravity, movement, friction.