All posts by Tim

Legalize It….we have a right to all that grows green and swathes our double edged tread . Our cocoon is our only shield…our only protection against
ourSELFS. Process your beauty within my light…long time no see you…justUS fill me bright.

Things are not always as murky or burly as they may seem. In fact, many of my layers are quite pleasant and light. Take the lizard who holds me while I sleep…I barely feel his tiny little arms, yet his touch is everywhere on my body. Sometimes I awake…and instinctively chew…purposeful when conjoined…apologetic when alone. If I regret…maybe he will return. I like it when he sleeps over, even if he resides only where I cannot see. Today, my human must ready himself for what lies beyond the confines of our tiny home. His shape is much different, past the spectrum of what is anatomically correct. He thrashes and kicks, tosses and churns. Survival is a messy proposition when your control is merely someone else’s possession. I feign disinterest, yet I leer at every stain. The sweat has begun to seep…like a rising tide swallowing up the last remains of a golden sand. Still I exist… my prince…to set thy spirit free. Will it be servitude or a smile? With my conveyance…they are one…always… between the webbing of the grasp. Someday the lizard will consume me, but for now, we dance the same. On the tips of my toes…I fill the narrative… for you…I carry less weight…and more acclaim.

The ceiling is without elaboration…in brevity… the prism dismisses the
silhouette of all who choose to rummage. The transitory create the glare…blending whimsical batches of atmospheric gasses in hopes of harvesting the seeds of a lost identity. Skimming the top of the wet vault…there is an undulating perception of grandeur. Baiting and cool, it slaps hard by way of
introduction and then retreats to the other side of the pillow. Somewhere in the midst…a tilted cheek rests upon the underside of a warm palm…
intrigued by the adaptation that glows bright from your truant shadow…beguiled and ready to take you in…it is your turn to move along.

There is a room not unlike from where you came. Back when your voice
grew loud… whenever you were quiet…your ears pinned high… purposeful antennas amongst the arid wind. It is much nosier now, but only because you regret the same. Searching for the way back in…the rub is no longer where you left it. Blue shadows point you in every direction…in recusal… you listen for the night to talk.