Fixation on the beauty of what’s being felt. Feeling ( through/because of/is the reason of): art.
I sleep on the left Where i slept on the right I colored my hair again Cause they didn’t feel enough bright I bought new clothes,
By Strange & Poeticabout a year ago in Poets
I did something for myself today I did not excused myself As i left the gathering behind Took my book and my silence Sat on wooden stairs
You wished to have the words Of a million different minds Available to your opened soul Personnal communication highway To infinite creative destinations
Brown noise lowers higher frequencies Calming those highs in my head, Balancing energies emanating from my skin Shushing the insecurities away, heavy hand laying on my chest
Sunkissed on her back She looked like a greek goddess Worshipped for her smile Rose hint, wild warmth Everything orange, silver nose
it bothers me how so many years later i still freeze whenever i cross your path. i know i should not care and i feel like i never do
By Strange & Poetic3 years ago in Poets
Let me hold you in my arms through the distance of the night let the flames burn my embrace if it means you get to rest.
It's not much about pain but about control drawing power in red all over my thoughts burning sens of unallowed clearance
I found home in the crease between your collar bone and your jaw a little piece of softness within the smell of your skin:
There is something in the air of Spring that melts the walls of restraints. Something about the Sun, or maybe the smell
nobody warns you about the uncanny familiarity of small villages changes. Nor do they share the feeling of grievance that assails you
Through the glass, head rested against a wooden windowsill, I can see burdening weight reaching a freefalling freedom.
