Post by xunpredictablel on Jan 7, 2012 23:44:55 GMT -5
i need a loveless sing me down
to bring me down from the
orchard.
fluttering wings so white that
they blind dissipate when the wind
blows. fireflies light
the path to the sleepless night that
everyone clings to, folding themselves
into the curve of another person -
finding themselves in the puzzle piece
cutouts of the person they call home.
i want a tender look around
to the people that need the mercy
of a soul that begs to upturn hands and
show the world what’s true.
clinging to a sense of self that
makes her feel at home, at peace with
her-self. she finds that dirt-stains are
attractive because it makes the
iris stand out; illuminated.
enlightened.
reaching palms up towards the sky
to catch the falling snippets of
the universe in undeserving hands,
whisperers ask questions of what could
be right. insatiable desires for
the answers guide their lives.
i find a child that lingers near, trembling
at my breast. something snaps inside of me,
i quiver at the thought of endless rest and
terminals... singing songs of glory days to forget
the fear that eats at their insides, from their
bone to the muscle, to the deepest layer of skin.
it’s then, when you feel it, when it’s gnawing right there,
so close to getting out and showing the world
around you just how terrified you are.
but wouldn’t it be beautiful, to have all the fear
float out of you, a soul all its own, to join the
masses of other terrors of everyone else?
sapping energy from the bad guys and
regiving it to the good guys.
come back to where you think you
birthed, to the place that you feel alive.
come back and embrace your mother
or earth, climb the trees of inception.
tremble from your deepest core,
remember what you were made from.
singly singe the broken trees, release their
souls at last.
remember again the glory days,
remember the ones that last.
blonde hair flutters on the wind,
white dress finds a way to dance.
remember a way to give again,
to live like it’s your last day here.
cherub smiles and grassy hair will
greet you and embrace your
sheepish demeanor. remember
and value what you are made of,
the leaves and please and dirt.
the leaves and sleeves and dirt.
to bring me down from the
orchard.
fluttering wings so white that
they blind dissipate when the wind
blows. fireflies light
the path to the sleepless night that
everyone clings to, folding themselves
into the curve of another person -
finding themselves in the puzzle piece
cutouts of the person they call home.
i want a tender look around
to the people that need the mercy
of a soul that begs to upturn hands and
show the world what’s true.
clinging to a sense of self that
makes her feel at home, at peace with
her-self. she finds that dirt-stains are
attractive because it makes the
iris stand out; illuminated.
enlightened.
reaching palms up towards the sky
to catch the falling snippets of
the universe in undeserving hands,
whisperers ask questions of what could
be right. insatiable desires for
the answers guide their lives.
i find a child that lingers near, trembling
at my breast. something snaps inside of me,
i quiver at the thought of endless rest and
terminals... singing songs of glory days to forget
the fear that eats at their insides, from their
bone to the muscle, to the deepest layer of skin.
it’s then, when you feel it, when it’s gnawing right there,
so close to getting out and showing the world
around you just how terrified you are.
but wouldn’t it be beautiful, to have all the fear
float out of you, a soul all its own, to join the
masses of other terrors of everyone else?
sapping energy from the bad guys and
regiving it to the good guys.
come back to where you think you
birthed, to the place that you feel alive.
come back and embrace your mother
or earth, climb the trees of inception.
tremble from your deepest core,
remember what you were made from.
singly singe the broken trees, release their
souls at last.
remember again the glory days,
remember the ones that last.
blonde hair flutters on the wind,
white dress finds a way to dance.
remember a way to give again,
to live like it’s your last day here.
cherub smiles and grassy hair will
greet you and embrace your
sheepish demeanor. remember
and value what you are made of,
the leaves and please and dirt.
the leaves and sleeves and dirt.