my life.

5:02am. i wake up to something lying next to me as warm as brazilian sand and as solid and stable as anything i'd ever known. a slight tilt of the head reveals glorious sound coming in from the outside that i've never really noticed until now, sounds that paint a picture of the outside morning sun, though blinds remain closed forcing all able visual behind a matted mess of vinyl cuts. reds, blues, oranges, pinks, purples swirl majestically across some canvas unbeknownst to man, a convoluted cacophony of colors and emotions of everyone alive and awake at this 5:02am. another slight tilt of the head reveals back to me the slight snore that i fell asleep to the night before, and as i lay my head down to its very source, trying desperately to hear from where within these sounds resonated, i realized that all was well and all that has ever mattered was what was that had remained.v

a simple strum of the heartstrings would reveal symphonies heard only momentary lapses in slumber.

and

as simply as he had slipped in...he was out.

to each their own, a rhythm.

my streetlight had gone out long ago, but in distance first steps trudged on, but willingly.

the child cries,

and

somewhere

a woman sings.

and to them, it is the most beautiful sound they have ever heard.

and somewhere

someone dies.

but with peace. solidtude. gratitude.

and in loving, they realize that much more. and dear, no infinite amount of underlying can emphasize that enough.

just as easily as you slipped in, you slipped out.

chasing new last hope as lack of momentum pushes on forward. she'd found, at long last. twilight hour, the glow of lost subtleties finally lay still. chaotic silence, shone from deep underneath. ghosts of tenses past had walked her home, but she'd been long gone by then. utterly without meaning, dredging onward. for behind remembrance, lay purposeful deceptions of quests unattainable. futility, at its last desperate attempt. singsong, at best.