worldsofanothermind
I nourish myself with art, devour it, in order to grow and expand like an ocean under an unstoppable rain. Art touches my center with a glowing, golden touch and leaves my ribcage opened wide - welcoming sensations and observations.
She let the water envelope her, cascades of crystal blue. A field of cold leaked sky to drench yourself in. The sea deliberately shapes the seashore with a crushing willfulness, kissing the stones until it crumbles away under the its influence. Sometimes, the swimmer felt the sea roaring through her veins. On those days her lips tasted like salt.
To capture ones dream before it flees from ones present mind - into the realm of the subconsciousness, the realm of dreams where all bear the same faces stripped of features and everything is liquid and in constant transformation. In greeting the subconsciousness by shaking his hand, reality will lose its grasp - for it will turn into nothingness.
Butterflies are at their prettiest when they're affixed with a needle to a cardboard. Many sought to find a beauty in death, equal to that of the butterfly, and decorated their self-inflicted wounds with words of poetry. My only wish regarding such glum matters as death, is that the afterlife includes coffee.
Drifting apart is sadly not an option for us, because our skin has grown together like the skin of siamese twins. We transcend into each other, no one will ever grasp where I stop and you begin. We are two portraits sharing a single canvas, we are a single tree wearing two crowns. To call myself the sun and you the moon would be inaccurate - because we are made of the same mass, we contain the same roaring fire. The same power. The same weakness. The same urge to cut free of the umbilical cord that keeps us wired together. Yet we can not.
You're exquisite. You're delicate like the petal of a flower or a carefully made chinese porcelain vase, yet, in some aspects, you are constant - as constant as the ever-turning movement of the earth. You are dependable - I am as sure of you as I am sure that the rain will always fall downwards, towards us, and in some ways through us. And when you move, you move through me.
I hate those beauty pageants for kids. I hate how they turn small children into plastic dolls. Children who should be climbing trees, getting dirt on their clothes and scrapes on their knees, children who should have a pool of snot on their upper lip, and rosy cheecks from playing out in the cold, children who should be learning good values from Disney movies and childrens books, who should be bicycling, playing video games, making ugly faces at each other. Parents with plastic minds, with an overwhelming ambition, with their eyes closed.
"You deserve it! Everything that may fall upon you, remember you deserve it!"
She was shouting. There was spit, flinging itself from her lips, making a grandiose flight through the air, prickling my chin.
"Yes, everything", I mumbled as I dried my face with my sleeve. "Even being showered by your body fluids. You're such a charmer, really."
I will not obey the rules of the universe, for the universe is full of cracks, and black holes - consuming the essence of the galaxy. I will not obey the symstem of the stars, for the stars will confuse me with their spectacular death. I will not obey the rules of gravity, for they will hold me down to the crust of the earth, and I am all but obeying.
It's warm, in every sense of the word. The sweet smell of hay, and the damp bodies of horses, who has just left the evergreen fields. Big, friendly creatures, munching, munching. The one place I can cease to be human for a little while.
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