The Letters

RealisticI was seated at a table with Reality Who stood up gracefully and bowed, and as a rainbow dripped from his smile that twisted down onto grassy floorsRealistic
an autum breeze shook my hand.
The pastels were scented like flowers which were soaked in his fragile tear drops But as the clouds splattered themselves across the ceiling the blue light sank into me closer trying to consume my sight.
Time walked over and layed out years in front of me but as I tried to grasp them, they flew by in an instant So as darkness swam under my feet, it whispered the myster


even god needs an editor.these subtle strings that some lonely god wove into souls andeven god needs an editor.
hearts, bones and blood--this is his swerving handwriting, curling across pages of skin and color.
i can see him now, bent over a long desk sweat collecting in beads along his brow, glittering in the ethereal candlelight, and he is


good morningtip-toeing orange sunrise mixing itself into my morning moonshine, which i've drank every morning since the day the moon smiled loudlygood morning
and deafened my sight with its frozen yawn.
taste these fumes, painting the blank canvas
of my mind as mother nature dances
seductively, human nature boiling my blood on a cold night, and though i've known her
for many years, my passion burns the same.
i unbuttoned the stars in the sky
as if it were her navy-blue blouse, revealing her sun-kissed skin beneath.
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