Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
And what surrounds me...
The hope of a love, unrequited anything, the scent of rain in the summer and of breath, the residue from good or bad dreams, a kind of haze that wraps the brain and the fingertips and the toes, delusions of grandeur or otherwise, sounds like wake up and shallow breath and stretching.
These, and the likes of these are made by the heart by the heartbeat by the blood. These, and the likes of these appear before tired eyes before long eyelashes before slow moving lids. These, and the likes of these are felt by tingling skin by pink lips by matted hair.