Among the seemingly endless nights absorbing into each other a particolored painting of eight years~the continuous story of love come and gone...disasters painted with the back drop of something beautiful...spectators who come and go...sometimes it is well documented sometimes the words escaped me for those times...my heart has closed in the most peculiar way~closed down the partitions...I watch sunsets come and go...people have more babies, break up, make up...I root myself in the strangeness of being alone...waiting for someone to drop me down to my knees, to leave me numb and speechless and drunk with their presence. to understand the dryness of my wit, and the sharpness of my tongue, and softness of my skin. the love I have for beautiful words. I wait I wait i wait......
a brief overview...
Let me break it down for you because people seem to have forgotten; to steal is to take without permission, or to borrow without intent to return,
Pure Generosity means you give without ever expecting anything in return and that there is no need for validation from anyone, to borrow is a loan from someone with the expectation of return, a DONATION is a choice that means it is not required, Admission is when you have to pay, to trade is a fair exchange of goods or services, and a favor is a favor, right is right, wrong is wrong, and love is love
I belong in a city, I belong on trains, on caravans, I belong in old bookstores laden with the scent of old paper, I belong with the wierdo's, the dancers, the thrift store finders, the vintage suit wearing hipsters, the one room studios filled with treasures, the wandering streets, the talk all night to a stranger, and coffee shops dates~ my next escape cannot come fast enough. The wanderlust is innate...
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