Tremors beneath the skin,
beneath fingertips that dance forever,
that dance fully, rhythmically to someones lyrics
I think that the song comes from the inside,
I think I mistook this quivering for an earthquake,
a pleasant wave for the whole tsunami of anxiety and ash
I think I should stop romanticizing seaside,
a wave of energy that is just hitting one spot over and over,
blind
If it were a human it would be seeing all red,
all bloody,
lipstick fresh and suns dying exhale
but its not,
and we call it powerful
I call it inspiring,
how the liqueur can gain so much strength when it is pushed to go forth,
how life can be just like a pebble or the boulder,
how water is ever-living,
ever existing,
surviving anything that dares to step in front of it,
instead of looking like pure aggression
How can I love it still when I keep it inside causing the
tremors beneath the skin,
beneath my eyelids,
purple and blue are dancing fully
to the pulse of growing supernovas of dreams
I think the problem is a lack of space
I think I mistook my love for keeping things for the greediness that overwhelms,
memories and thoughts inside a box inside of me causing the
tremors from within my body,
within what I think is my shell, my true home
I think it happens whenever I am alone
I think its the only time I am aware of it being what it is,
a body of water,
a body of natural disaster
I am aware I am shaking
I am aware of the destruction an earthquake can cause
and yet
I call it almighty,
all praising the
all loving
I think I should stop romanticizing this feeling
I think I should just stop the tremors,
just be cold skin
but another moment is a moment too long to hold the game on hold
This winter seems to go for eternity,
seems too dim for my liking
How can I speak when I am always choking on the blizzard of everything I have ever wanted to say,
how can I breath when everything sticks to my lungs
I think this might be heaven,
I think the silence proofs it
A fog of people has a way to make a wall of itself around you,
makes you think its the clouds you're after,
the freedom
and not the void,
but I am a child of summer,
of flower crowns and old books,
of daylight full of heat,full of healing
There's not enough months of it to make me last,
yet
it causes a pleasant tremor all around me,
beneath the fingertips that dance forever,
that dance fully, rhythmically to someones lyrics
¤ ¤ ¤
//10/11 January 2018//
