History…repeats
Seven years later, three more projects, and round two begins. This time without the distractions.
Green Lights
There’s no such thing as a perfect time. Things are never going to line up the way you want them to. You’re most likely going to be alone when you decide to go for it. The only thing that matters is that you look both ways and then put one foot in front of the other. There’s no green lights, no red lights, no yellow lights even. Time is suspended in paradise. So there is only fear, or love—you must choose one or sit in stagnation in the presence of death.
End of The World
I would rather have love—even if it means bullets fly, bombs fall, glaciers melt, and volcanic overflow consumes us in its wake. I’ve always been partial to the fire anyway. I could hardly think of a better exit sign. Let it burn—so long as it’s in the name of love. We’ll become ash together and millions of years from now the survivors will unearth us just to write a beautiful inaccurate narrative of our passing. In that moment we will become immortals.
Winds
Your voice is especially restless tonight. As welcoming, and comforting, as it may be—it is also deeply unsettling. I never truly know whether it will be heaven or hell who visits. It’s been a long time since I felt like I was safe enough to trust a good thing. Especially when you are involved.
Poor
Lately I’ve been reminiscing the simplicity of weighing out dimes and twenty sacks on an old Tupperware container that doubled as a coffee table. My only concerns back then were wondering how long before the cops came to kick in my door or coming up short. The place was wreck, and my life as a whole wasn’t much better—but you knew where you stood. Now, I’ve gotten older and the lines have become blurred more and more with age. The realities of this world, and the next, have settled in—and I find myself missing the simplicity of harder days. I miss the ignorance of my youth.
No Illusions
For once, there’s no illusions, everyone can see the bleeding wounds. At least they know from the very beginning, and the choice becomes theirs to make—whether to run or be bleed on. Strangely, most choose the blood.
Fairytales
When we’re young, we want to believe that love is enough. Reality is a little more complicated than that though. When we grow up, most of us just want a grand gesture that compels us to unpack all of the boxes for once. Maybe, because someone cares enough to try, then real love can be grown from the gesture.
Bloodhound
In my dog’s old age, she has become more and more opposed to meeting new dogs. Honestly, I’ve never related more to an animal in my life.