on measurement

we unravel our way through life. like the proverbial ball of string we reach to the moon and find ourselves in deep space. cast adrift in the absence of gravity. we free fall until we hit something. sometimes soft. sometimes warm. sometimes woven.

grey scale

the skylines of my childhood once again sweep through the town.

we swing low with them, with heads held back just brushing the earth. with pendulous gaits and heavy breaths. with absolution for sins just being revealed by the ever present process of decay.

i save up all my rainy days for a penny. flicked into the air. a panacea for confusion. call the future dualistic. either. or. but. and. then again....

diaspora

i lust for something which cannot be named. A thousand faces of longing roll across the sky like storm clouds. Threatening precipitation without breaking. These delicate tensions fill that strange space between heart and gut. Mayhaps i grieve the passing of that which both comforts and controls

on the other side of sunshine

bliss shares the hues of the light reflecting through my kitchen. On these soft days where shade is a virtue my giggles are the sporadic rythems of all the rains of my childhood. Some slight, some strong, some pounding. Some riding the wind to doorsteps and street signs and cafes. It swirls like a slowly stirred cake batter. Ripe for rising in the heat.

exfoliant

we roll through the days stripping back layers. bare flesh exposed to the sun.

we effevesence and bubble as what was dissolves. tasting sweeter than a childhood memory. more refreshing than saltwater on dirt. these swirling constellations hold still. momentarily. my shutter speed adjusts to the changes in light.

the spectrum shifts but the colour stays vibrant.
i am warm skin and soft thoughts and hope.

the shades of the morning

there are shades of perfection; this morning is the soft yellow light of a lamp in your grandmothers loungeroom. Elegance is the seduction of simplicity by beauty. I am lustful for these small things.

alignment

a day built for basking. i am clean skin shining. skipping through streets despite the illusion of an evenly paced midday stroll.

everything in it's right place as i neatly count my blessings. tie each one with a ribbon. kiss it soft and slow and sweet.

my thoughts flow like honey; languid, amber, rich. i lick the edges, sup it slowly, drizzle it between finger and tongue.

action flows from intention. the stream is bright and clear.