OC, CA Sunsets

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seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
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seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
OC, CA Sunsets

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The Candy Store on Balboa Island, Newport Beach
As Sun sleeps and wakes it counts each and every tendril of sunshine, weeping for the next time it can get a hold of you. Even Sun can be sad because it misses your presence, one less Sun-ray today. Sun feels a little bit smaller without you and it wants you to know that you really, really, really, really, matter. There is a way to burrow holes through the darkest corners of the universe letting even the tiniest beam in, make Sun so happy to get to see you again.
“Hey Phil, get in this pic with me! ...not like that u goofball!” Glad to call this weirdo a friend.

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Stormy Newport Beach
Home ❤
I can taste your laugh in midnight’s shadow.
I.
I turned your voice into a seashell for the last distant echo, farther here I searched for us within all of the alternate parallel closer aways I have loved you through too many sometimes...
II.
he has no clue how to kiss me but the newest-new guy can’t stop smiling,
is it contagious
enough
to catch me?
his lips on mine tick 10pm in the basement and I can’t remember if I forget what your mid-kiss laugh tastes like
III.
I want to make peace with our magentas and ultraviolets the colors while lingering on the edge of misery
only two people this insane
would
actually see, the psychotic goose-loops we went on to chase more
loose ends, the beauty as we flat-lined through mid-air for five years but still haven’t fallen out of anywhere I can’t forgive how your lips on mine
struck
midnight
at
the...
IV.
the newest-new guy looks into my eyes and
intentionally pauses
but
the
clock
has
lost
her
whimsy...
she lays herself down
on a lime-green couch
in this
exact
literal
minute,
this
present
plane of existence
and
un-figuratively
sinks
down
into
the
comfy
cushions
I
wonder,
what
time
is
it?
V.
it was just so different
back
then,
you
holding
my skeleton
hand...
no
need
to
breathe
an
eternal
lallygag
strolling
along
dawdling
about
moseying-on
through
a
dilly-
dally
of
our
last
moment...
(I just can’t say the word meadow again.)
VI.
the rippling distant echo
of your strike
dying
down...
and
he has no clue
how to kiss me
but
I can taste
this newest-new
guy’s
smile
at 10pm in the basement
as our clumsy
mid-kiss-teeth
clang
the next
tick
after
your
midnight’s
shadow