a mosaic of stones.

thanks for the dishonesty.
thanks for the attempt.
thanks for the ride.
thanks for the fights.
thanks for the willingness.
thanks for the days.
thanks for the nights.
thanks for the support.
thanks for the letdown.
thanks for the growth...

and with the treading of holding onto this gift for all times comes a great deal of scars that will forever be engraved in my heart.
and for each word that's let out of my mouth...
i mean every single sound.

the escape.

for all you've made me feel.
a feeling of dryness consumes my throat and has guided me to the harshness's of what has happened.
a crack and a shatter tightens the back of my neck, it has me at an unease stature, i fight to build the stones that will lead me to improvement, but the unpredictable spread of oil masks the stones it then shakes my attempt and crumbles it.
a look of surrender fills my face.
i need for something to overcome me as the darts in eyes turn into the facts. i'm once again lost, and left to run.
i take cover in the blankets, where i lay my head against the unsteady wood and rely on the inevitable's of a new tomorrow.
i have departed the minutes of peace, where i was in the rawest form of living, where i would run my eyes along the rippleless lake till i would reach the skirts of the arching trees, the dark lake reflected sky is blocked by the takeover of translucidus clouds, with the beams of light striking the sparkle in all fights it has my attention, i am no longer latched onto the stresses of a uncomparable freedom, i am free.
i wanted the docks edges to shorten to my knees, i then spilled my legs into the weightless lake, instantly a sensation of cleanse and purity soothed my tension... i heard silence.
the marriage of sounds made by my feet as it reunited with the waters has healed me from all the worries of what was left behind.
all i have left is to breathe in the deep tones of life.
all i have left is to be welcomed and warmed by the breeze of cool airs.
all i have finally regained was the importance of something worthy.
all i am is into the wild.

fly away.

the walk to the end of the line.
it begins to pick up into a light jog, finally evolving to a sprint.
these quick, minor glances at the side ditches have me falling into a guilt state. the unjust punishment i feel inside has me consistently going back, back to that.
the thoughts and dwells of the past, and the future.
the biggest blinding circle i find myself going in is the one of confusion.
the rounding corners that force my foot to touch the ground pulls me downward into your pull, the pull you have on me, the impact you've made on me isn't easy.
the struggle of the pedals are gripping me to feel the fight, all of the intensities i burn into myself starts from the denials of what got me here, the spotting of the never ending truth.
a field of greys lay in front of me, i pedal back two cycles going to that place of day, you sitting upon the solid ground, the sounds of my voice directing the stance.
its captured.
forever...
the need for this line we have made is apart of me, attached to me, in me.
a disguised essential begins to ink permanence onto me.
let the night cycle on around us.
as we feel the ridges of the pavement on our backs.
may we reunite without a fuss.
to one day find our doubts a float... to the end of the shoreline.

live by your conscience.

the breeze.
inside of the square of simplicity the rush of air fills in the sunken curves that releases... me.
the smell of the solid forms that bare reality gives me light, i see the meadows across the way, with its willows touching the ends of the tall trees. the shadows of the sun guards the aged grass leaving me a spot to rest, the separating line of the night and day, hot and cold presents to me the contrasts of nature... positives and negatives, childhood vs. adulthood and the ups and downs of life.
with the scene of freedom behind me, i chase the drifting string of twine along the dirt path up to the brick yard garden, outlined with single white cala lilies along the stones the accents of black cast iron chairs cuts into the sight, in that moment every glossy shine is covered by the clouds, im blocked out, trying and trying to lend my thoughts to the unknown, and hope of a return. as i turn my back to the sky i spot the takeover of thick grey clouds consuming the atmosphere...
its all too confusing, the seconds of change tangles my mind to never believe. we fool with our words onto paper marking each moment, not ever knowing what the next brings.
we must leave it and mark it with the chance to pick up again, because nothing is ever certain.
nothing stops flowing..
and all is always growing.
just breathe.