Adult Things. Fierce Fires.

Oooo....I want chu. Ya know, I want(ed) you so BAD. The resistance and confusing scenarios and glances keep the wanting ever present. Here I am. There you’ll be. Ever AND ever. Oh….of these Indie moments and scars and memories. Maintain the coffee pot as I maintain these unrealistically challenging traits that aren’t at all. The times are a changin’….and you and me with it. Let go, Alex. Let go. Recall the necessary happy and lucky instances via daguerreotypes and non-corrupted cerebral cells [Buddha willing].

And YOU. Guess what? Tentatively, I will miss you terribly. Moving out and away….away AND out. You are ALL moving, shifting, altering the fabrics of this reality that for a stint seemed somehow unchangeable. Progress. All must and should progress, change, derange. THIS right NOW…cannot exist without you. Ok. It’s gonna be ok. Because I am a cultivator of dreams, a viewer of kitchen football…a lover of me in this time and place. FIRE. And they deployed this fire. Inside, outside…somewhere else? The desired sweat. Like a creep I imagine the possibilities. Naive. Yes, I remain so very naive, so incredibly hopeful, and entirely unsure of future aspirations and for that….I am alive. Well…in love with this life and the next.

My plant.....is dead. Sadness emerges. FAIL. Ok. Ok. OK. ;D