soulswe've lost the touch to reality. we fall in love with strangers, picturing their stories and minds as we please. we start dancing in the streets as at the times we felt no one was watching. we attach to things so easily; to that pen we use everyday to put down our thoughts into words, to that bracelet we got on that trip where we felt everlasting, to that person we met just yesterday and who we can't get our mind off. we're dying and coming alive again with the characters in the books we read, we hold them to our breasts and say "this is me black on white". our mood changes within a second when the first line of this specific song comes on. we lie in the high grass watching the clouds, but they are not clouds. this is a lion and that over there is a kissing couple. we put a life and a mind in every little thing we see; these sparks rising towards the sky long to be part of the stars, this branch got mad at our ignorance and wanted to hit us in the knee, our cat is hurt by our absence f
heavy stormsthey were running out onto the fields in a morbidly fast pace, their pale bodies carried by their bare feet, following lines in the grass others had run along before. it were three or four of them, and I never really knew more than I was told. one of them was called Timothy. a strong young boy with a lot of glory ahead of him, always the first to talk, the first to act, a character of some kind. he had worked his way up in school and the other fellows admired him for the honest weigh of his words that pleased and touched them deep down their heart. but he was not sane. his luster had devastated his mind, his soul, and his being had become like the machines at the enormous steel factory at the edge of the sprawl that once was called a town; he was working, but living he failed to. the second's name was Elizabeth. never too loud, never too eccentric, never too much. her big eyes and her light heart had made men using her the way no woman should be used, but she let it happen. she never c
blossomingit happened while I was laying in bed. the white sheets surrounded my pale skin, the soft morning light with such a dim on my face with nothing to be said, nothing to be done. my limbs, my arms, my whole body felt so heavy. my breath went slowly and suppressed and my eyes fell closed as soon as the need to open them arose. the bed began to move, it elongated and stretched with me inside. so did I. it was a pain, an ache, a distress. so much had happened before, so many words had been said, so many thoughts had been thought, so many dooms had been done. but I lived. "mum", I whispered as her fragile body entered the door, her eyes silently upon me like a deer's. "it's the death." she shook her head and took a seat on the wooden chair she had pulled towards me. my limbs elongated again and I groaned quietly. I could feel it inside. I could feel my lungs collapsing and expanding over and over. I could feel my heart crumbling and widening. why did this happen to me? had the time come? I co
the greenhouseand when it all would become too much and everything would feel like weight on my shoulders, I'd just sit there and listen to the raindrops silently dripping onto the roof.