Summer Love
Diver
The fire is live in me
I see the flames as they shift into you
One more time
The diver of my feelings
The hair on my arms dance for you
We remember
A moon cycle glanced your way
You made promises you kept
How I resent you for that
The Wall
A woman staring at a wall
Holds heartships, big time worry
No memory on Wednesdays
Her equilibriums all tired out
She wears and tears the seeds of a woman
She’s been staring at that wall damn near my whole life
Do you fantasize about us?
A handful of names
I’m all over the place
A drop in a wave
Mad; pure madness to embrace
“You’ll always be my baby, so I’ll see you in my dreams.”
Thirsty
I’ve perished
They told me so
A few times
I’m tongue tied
A thing in the undercurrent
A hole in one
When I woke I was thirsty
An insatiable existence
I know I’ll be punished
I know it’s a sin
Made of Moon
The river split all too soon
I was made of moon
So I spared the connection and tuned the loving beast
Who chips it’s nails to soften the beatings
Source
These wings don’t flock
I am not forced by any wind
Ungrounded from the land and molds
Behold everyone, the individual
A pure source
Pure eyes
A soul who’s unknown
Doesn’t quite belong anywhere
Found in anything and everything; every being
Heavy
I want to be seen through and through
I want to have enough, never stop
There’s pauses in my membrane
I don’t recall the order of fate
How I wish it’d play out
How I pray to erase
Escaping is the back door
Unspoken
I beg my soul to be revoked and
The soul never wanted to carry me anyways
It names me a burden
Dead weight
Hips in heaps of heavy and a bit unsteady
Haunting
Smokey listeners
Reaching for the shallow limbs of black
They sink and wail to discover life
And so I remain, printed and somewhat flaky
Together, forested in fictions
I lie to myself when I stretch out of the hopeful comforts
I’m picked as bark
The dog days are quite holy; haunting
The body was muddy and dug out of void
Being, holy as well
Peer through
Identify me, then leave me to be, leave me alone
As I grow feral to the moans of cicadasÂ
I will touch the golden skies in faith
The ones I indulge in and tell stories about
Secrets
They would call me insane if they knew of the voices I have above my head
They would call me insane if I told them of my enlightened mind
So they want us to think aloud
And share all our secrets?
Freegrandmaa 