Cutting vegetables.
I can’t always tell if you’re with me in the moment my friend. Are you still who you are? You are a spontaneous flame, born from some fiery luminary, dancing around so not to be snuffed out. You are a survivor. You have a thick existence so I don’t expect your words will be spoon-fed to you by halo wearing angels. I will paint you a picture. At first you might think it just hangs there in silence but it will eventually scream loudly for you to not wear out your heart. Start dreaming and don’t regret it because if you stare at that painting long enough it will lose all it’s familiarity. That has happened with all my paintings so I can not say much of anything more.
I saw the expression on your face. Not completely mean but not altogether nice either. I know about hammering my answers into my thick skull. Sometimes I only see the tiniest bud of hope but at least I know why it’s called hope. You’re the only one I’ve shared this with and afterwards I’ll swallow my words. And, although I don’t have the understanding of all mysteries, nor can I remove mountains pressing heavily on your lungs making you struggle to breathe, I do have faith that you will surround yourself with people who never flap their vain wings and have already put away their childish toys.
The answers may come to you in the silence of the night, speaking to you in a dream, but may vanish from memory as sunlight forms your new day. It is important to remember that fear kills and hope will feed you. Don’t think you have to lose yourself before you can find yourself. Don’t get pulled by the conveniences of time when it comes to the essentials needed for a happy life. Ride the highways on your motorcycle and have your girl drizzle a bit of sunlight into your recipe. I’ll make sure I paint a cool breeze in your spirit and maybe you will fakie fakie some much needed moonlight for me.
