It’s for the same reason I’m not able to write on a titanium letter board. It feels fake. Artificial. Completely plastic. And e|MOTION|less.
I need to hold you in my hand. I need to grip you tightly or hold you like a feather in my palm. I need to feel the words being extracted from out my cobalt veins. I’ll write you out in an aqua swimming pool underneath the world and you’ll be drenched in my dry tears. I’ll write you from atop a scraper of the sky when even my soul feels dead with dread. I’ll write you out even when I am toxic in thought. Your love is not contingent upon the coherentness of my tangled thoughts and erratic emotions.
|NOTIONS| are the only thing you really want. Without notions, there’s neglect. And apathy. And the desires within my beating heart reject the idea of apathy. I have no time for Atheism. I need to be quenched before my being is dehydrated. I am curious for you. Curious and confused. Quell my haze. Lift my blinding veil. Clear the fog. Awaken my dead heart. Push this warrior soldier to an uprising. I am a vessel for you to flow through. But my blood is clotted with doubt and depression and desperation and devilish desires.
THIN THIS CRIMSON.
Lest i have a spiritual aneurism.
AN OCEAN OF EMOTION SHALL SOON ERUPT FROM INSIDE MY BEING AND RIP MY FLESH FROM WITHIN CHEST.
My brain is a chemistry equation of chaos. An intergalactic explosion of thoughts and ideas like shooting stars and comets ready to detonate. Volcanoes nearing eruption. Ready to explode at the slightest step. Cracks of thunder and lightening bolts of electrical mayhem ready to strike.
I CRAVE for the electricity inside my mind to ricochet and shock my heart awake. Defribrillate my derhythmed heart. Sync me to you. Let every fiber of my being pulse to the beat of your will. I’m worn of being a manic, compulsive riff through this life. Teach me to be gentle. Show me that passion can still be powerful when it harmonizes to you. Be my conductor.
TELL ME INTENSITY IS NOT CORRELATED TO ANY LEVEL OF AUDIBILITY.
Siphon this liquid love out of me.
LET ME BE YOUR AQUEDUCT.
Use me to drench the world with your H2hOpe.
You’re the alchemist. The only element I’m in need of is you. LIVING WATER.
GOD. I am so thirsty.
I am dying to love you. I am dying to live again.
LA you mess with my head, and you play with my heart.
Deceitful, alluring, and manic.
Like the moon, i wax and wane with age.
I dance with the devil in this place of angels.
We tango in this mangled paradise.
City of sun, but a hurricane of contradictions too.
With every dream, and hope accompanies a
sacrifice of morale and soul.
You are a sly serpent of grand implication.
Your fruit is tasty, but I can’t stomach your lies.
You offer cheap gratification and I’m into quality of eternity.
Your stars of walks and skies, they glitter.
And you heal hearts in ways unexpected.
But even Botox can’t withstand the wrinkles of time spent here– in Los Angeles.
“I used to think i was the strangest person in the world but then i thought there are so many people in the world, there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre and flawed in the same ways i do. I would imagine her, and imagine that she must be out there thinking of me too. Well, i hope that if you’re out there and read this and know that, yes, it’s true i’m here, and i’m just as strange as you.” — Frida Kahlo
There’s not a lot of substance to this post– quite like my mood. Sometimes my own depth becomes utterly exhausting. So tonight, i’ll be a poison berry.
Ever since i came to Califonia, things have been great. Should you ever come here, come to LA.