without a title

the disparity of the before and after is the only real black-and-white reality I've witnessed - felt from day one... a single spark of curiosity that triggered a whole biological reaction that hasn't subsided.

harmony strings along the sultry curvy lines that define warmth. And it’s continued strength has been as long as my intrigue... one of the millions of questions that will never be answered. Not one you can write anyway - one you can only communicate through the skin.

not that any answer is required... and in my valid & honest quest to stabilize the anxiety of why's and hows of I won't dare try to rationalise it.

it would destroy it. It's a quantum situation that pushes away the observer and makes me sit down and be still. In stillness. Comfortable, warm. It'll never fit into words, it doesn't even fit properly in dreams - cut through the day as a third option between sleep and awareness. Any neat little box with a perfectly aligned tag configures as waste and clutter I'd be tempted to fill only to pick it up and shake everything off again, and again, and again. and with it, there'd be a cost of time and time, and time, and time, and time, and some more time, and time and energy and time.

things repeat themselves as such when we least want them to.

it floats around! Can you not see it? It's luminescent even though it's burning. It flows. It just... is.

how scary is the sea? it is.

how beautiful are starry nights in the summer? they are.

why does excitement proceed joy? it does.

how free can we ever really be? we are.

with the rain and the cold and the warmth and the light and the moon and all of the fears, it's still a delight.