Wednesday, February 08, 2012

The Blood Of The Words

I can't wait to sleep tonight. I'm excited to pull up the covers and let the sheets pull me into a warm womb of dreams.

It really is draining to let the words loose - to let them explode from the corners of your freed mind and spout in a fount of revolutionary truth. They rattle around and careen off the sides of my cortex, like a pinball off of a rubber bumper.

The words take shape. They live. They breathe. They form an entity.

I long for lakes. Lakes and long sunsets that make you see the cracks in your skin in the silhouette of the grapefruit coloured sky. We squint our eyes at the source but the light pixelates and distorts in the water of our eye.

But instead, I am here. Here in this deep, dark frost.

We bundle up. We face the winter.

A windowsill cracks open in a frozen crunch of suction and dead cold. The wind is like a vacuum that pulls the breath from our lungs.

Opportunity shines in the cool, austere moon.

Let the words out. Let them bleed.

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