This is getting personal.

The only thing that is hold me together tonight is Taylor Swift, Welcome to New York.

-I don't think about you like I used to.
Loves.
-S

6.14.15

Veined roads
laced their way through
the checker boarded fields.

A visitor of the sky.

Flashing lights and
muted color
imitate the stars
themselves.

--------------------

Perhaps humans
are meant to
be above
the land they live on.

Loneliness doesn't  seem
relevant
in height.



We're not as big as we think.

We're stary eyed and tongue tied.
Stay golden.

Resolute.

Just some thoughts about heaven.
Perhaps heaven isn't only just a place. Heaven is a collection of things that you love, things that make you feel like you're made from string and gold and released from God's palms. Things that have formed you as a human; experiences that have lifted your heart and opened your eyes. A collection of the songs you grew up listening to. The CD named, "Dad's Old Westerns" that your grandpa's mother listened to. A collection of moments that peace was spoken to your mind. Or the state of contentment, flowing bliss. Or the times when every one is gathered around the table, smiling and laughing and talking about old jokes and love old stories. How often are we mistaken that heaven is a reward for the life we have lived? That heaven is a place. Heaven is a state of being, a piece of time. Heaven is always present. Present in the daily acts of acceptance and progression. It's presented wide fields. It's in clear eye sight and clear minds. It's in freedom and in quiet car rides. In hand holding and safety. In the low vibrating tone that your father's voice holds.
God is in awe at what you possess.

Killers gotta Kill.

Baby, I wrote about you tonight.
It was long.

I was going to tell you, but I  am too afraid you'll ask questions.
I was going to post it.
But I don't want you to read it.
I just want you to know that I did.

I was surprised how much I had to say on the subject of you.
Dream lightly Darling.





-xoxox

Nevada Sunnier

The shadows are high and my reality has sunk. I can't stop rubbing the corners of my eyes. Blinking away my iron and irony; repressing anything the color of blue. We were string and gold. My emptiness is my verb and you are the noun. Pronounced. Anunciate. Communicate. Moon to you and to me. I was a child. Red yellow and blue. That air mattress for a bed creating agitation between your kidneys. Kids and knees. Darling I've been crying for decades while you've only been around to decay. Take me back. Back to the childhood of a confused 10 year old girl. Short blonde hair, singing songs of the sad picking raspberries and running away from the family dog. Breaking pine needles like wishing bones, always letting my sister have the longer end. I've been waiting for end. I've been like this for as long as I can remember. I'll keep the illusion straight, Love.

Lonely is a sound.

It's amazing to me how alone Human beings are able to feel, while surrounded by their own race.