#writethestorm

the vistas of earth stretch below, turning from light to dark, from summer to sere.

      from light to dark, from summer to sere,       i trace the journey of your uplifted smile.

i trace the journey of your uplifted miles, never setting foot on the oceans below

      never setting foot on the oceans below,       ships sail in formation, toy-boats in a bath

ships sail in formation, toy-boats on a path, like model airplanes. i am in your hands.

      like model airplanes, i am in your hands       as you are in mine. our dreams take flight

tracing way across my skin

don’t forget about the hills

that are caused by my bones within

take your fingers on an adventure

tracing way across my scalp

make your way down my neck

and through the spinal alps

treat my body as your map

and don’t fear of what’s to come

take your mind on an adventure

and let your fingers run.

it’s raining today, and for the next week: last week i slept out under the stars, a tatami, a pillow, and a sleeping bag, nothing between me and the sky.

this afternoon i woke up to a downpouring of rain, but i am most me and myself in petrichor, the cut of something threatening, promising, water from the skies.

the tatami had water stains running down its body when i squeezed the pillow it dripped. but if i could cry instead of being a desert, letting the water break into puddles ankle-deep -

is it too late to tell myself a story? echoing a refrain from the past      once upon a time -      echoing a refrain from the past      i etch lines deep into my swollen ego                                   there was a child who fell down

jagged rips deep into my swollen ego carved, so rot oozes like tears, like blood

                                                           constantly, until

      rot oozes, carved, like tears - like blood -       and so i never feel done, the clouds heavy

                                they got tired of restarts.

and so i never feel done, the clouds heavy the list endless, the weight more boundless

               how far do i have to run?

     the list endless, the weight more boundless,      my luck is running out, my time, too.

      (once upon a time -)

clocks tick down, an eager sound. i’ve never learned to dream before. i’ve shattered in circles, i've never been found, lost endlessly in a maze of doors.

                    i’ve never learned to dream before.                     Each day was gray, the same as always.                     Lost endlessly in a maze of doors                     each new opportunity became empty hallways.

Each day was gray, the same as always: why be happy when i could only trudge? each new opportunity became empty hallways, each achievement was “expected” sludge.

                     why be happy when I could only trudge?                      why dream more when today stretched on?                      each achievement was “expected” sludge,                      while each failure was writ in stone.

why dream more when today stretches on? ...only if dreaming brings me time with you to burn while each failure was writ in stone, does it take blood? i will squeeze them until I can learn

                      only if dreaming brings me time with you to burn,                       i’ll weight a dream into stone-cold reality -                       does it take blood? I will squeeze them until I can learn                       the breaths, skills, things I need to be with you quickly

it’s hard, building a new you,   telling yourself your new story:

            i’m certainly not good at it,               otherwise i’d be further along.

                           ...it’s like building a bridge on sand, see:                                          the first step is always, always unsteady.

but step enough on even sand, and it becomes sandstone, becomes rock.

seeking open sky, balloons drift up to the clouds. from below, color.