I think this picture is beautiful.
Perennial is one of my favourite words.
As are Maudlin. Melancholy. Macabre.
I like purple and turquoise and orange and red.
Listening to music with my eyes closed, I can see it.
Not in notes.
Or moving lips.
More like seeing, and sort of feeling and being at the same time.
It's like the music is building walls. And houses and ladders and stairs.
A landscape full of multidimensional geometric shapes.
Unfinished building sites. Lyrical floorplans. Lines.
And I'm moving between them. Falling towards them, saved by the bass line.
I should point out that this is not a lame attempt at poetry. Just the way I hear things.
I like people, and talking.
Words, I love words.
But some days I don't want to talk, at all. So I don't. I swallow my thoughts and leave white spaces in the air.
I love ellipses...I frequently use them...and abuse them...and misuse them.
I'll tell anyone, anything. Anything, anything. All they have to do is ask. If they don't ask I won't tell them anything. Not even my name.
Yesterday I started to feel pale and insignificant. And like the rain might wash me away if I didn't hold on to myself tight enough.
I put on some raspberry lipgloss. It helped.