I haven't posted in far too long, so I'm basically posting the strange little stories that come to me when I'm half-asleep/half-awake. These are all saved under 'Introspection' but I felt maybe I should've given them titles? At least something to break them up. But titles weren't really appropriate for all of them, so...
Also, I don't pretend to be an English major. So I don't expect this to make sense in the way of poetry writing, or in the way of actual storyline. If some don't make sense, well, they're part poetry, they're not *supposed* to.
I have dreams sometimes
Dreams where my words flow like rivers and meld like melted chocolate
Dreams where what I want to say, need to say, have to say, are said and are said in such perfect prose that the world kneels in awe at my collaboration of consonants
Vowels may exist, they may not
Egyptians didn't need them after all, and they live forever through history
Words float and drift like prismic bubbles and they never ever pop, each one perfect and necessary and *there*
Each reaches the ears of the masses and passes through the brain and melts on the tongue like crystallized honey
Every single syllable a medley of textures, of harmony and of flavour so beautiful the world weeps
Salty tang of tears that feed my muse and sometimes turn my words to sorrow, unending, yet still...
Everything
My words are perfect, flawless, unending and *there*, no stuttering or stammering, no sharp halts of dissonant screeching like freight trains crashing in the night
No real life
Just sheer utter perfection
I have dreams sometimes
I stand in a river, rocks under my feet, molecules between my toes
Phosphorescent moonlight spills sparkling rays upon me,
I am made a backdrop on the water
For moments I am an inverted angel, archangel, nothing but shadows
Surrounded by light. The only connection to it and me the ripples that merge us two for brief moments
I stand on a mountain, higher than the highest heights and I wonder if I fall, should nothing break my fall, will I reach the ground?
Splatter into individual molecules, or will velocity and resistance simply
Vaporize me?
I stand in a golden field and am reminded of you
Bright hair, shining of sunlight molecules and starlight gleaming
Long as unending oceans, eyes as dark and giving as the soil beneath my feet
You are beauty and you are perfect
And you are my first stirring of love between two young girls
Though many years before a recognition of what it was; never admitted to you of course
I do not presume to presume, but I do fervently believe of feelings unmutualized
My fingers thread through honeysuckle dew and wheat
Remind me of early happier times of childhood play where my fingers ran through your hair instead
Simple silly messy braids of my making
But I would continue all day if I could have
Start, stop, undo, begin anew, brushing every snarl and tangle created by my hands
I never could touch your perfection and not spoil it
But could not help myself either
For again and again I begged to touch, to tease, to love
There is no shame till years and wisdom and others shame
Created my own complex feelings of terror
Emotional overload unexperienced before
That swamps the simple unhindered childish love and bogs it in despair and restraint
I long for that childhood
That time of innocence
But we've aged, boundaries upon boundaries between us
Still terror, still fervently belived unmutualism
I will never admit, never confess
My childhood friend lost through time
Lost sooner if in confession
So silence
Silence
To give me time to revel
Now time to deny
No possibilities
No hope
In my dreams, I find you again, you and courage unknown,
And for hazy sunlit perfect moments, I run fingers through honeysuckle-shining wheat
And drown in kind soil and am content
If only. If only.
