Of my later ways, I was screaming. Crucial attempts at developing a clearer head. Avoiding the gluten bread, and the wheat flour. Sticking daily, to bottles of water. Reading nightly, and writing every morning. Writing every mourning was the start of evolution. From that gray mass of insubordinate waste covering flesh with anti-body and procrastinating to consume me.
But I shook off the rain with a couple of dry clouds. The moon grows so big and the stars and I've got dry eyes now. The angel's got you. Plucking her feathers to soften that deep fall. Riding you kisses so you don't have breakdowns. Calling doctors, alert the Mrs.: Heart filled up so much, he exploded into several pieces.
Call this "tide" that I'm in; the more I try, it's sink-or-swim. Call this "crowd" that I'm in; we cry and cry "let us in!". Call this "stride", that i move with. Our hearts'll fly, if work permits.
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1 comment:
I feel like I've said this before.. but whenever I read your writing, I read it like a song. It has a nice flow to it that is soothing to the ears/eyes.
Keep going, Philly (hah I like the nickname!)
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