3am settles around us like bedsheets my name is the holiest prayer on your lips i would have you kiss me into oblivion if it wouldn’t interrupt the elegant soliloquy rolling off your tongue as you elucidate over alabaster caves tucked within my walls tell me more about the stars i lassoed for you in another time
i invite you in again and again gentle waves lapping at a golden shore the skies will gather clouds and the rain will fall again but today the sun hangs high overhead seals play in the tumbling surf mimicking our frolicking souls for a moment, the alarm bells fall silent and we live
stoned woman eating pretzel bread at aquarium has no need for god or money
the bread is still warm in her hand, the inside soft and chewy and hot. the salt crystals bite her tongue, stick for a moment before dissolving. she sways on her feet along with the kelp forest; it’s the rhythm of the planet, of all life, and tears prick her eyes at the sheer fucking beauty of the moment: warm bread, salt, her feet connected to the ground that is connected to the aquarium to the ocean to the earth and they’re dancing together, the kelp and the sea urchin and the otters, the children passing by on the street outside, the gulls and the pelicans, the dance radiating outward from this point on which she stands, a giant ripple, and laughter bubbles up in her throat, ridiculous, hiccuping laughter that brings a new wave of tears to her eyes. the abundance. the dancing. the love pouring warm and salty from her chest, like she is the pretzel bread being slowly consumed by the universe’s wide, gaping mouth and it’s beautiful because she’s feeding the world from her heart while she dances with the kelp. she is nothing more or less than god, stoned at the aquarium, with pretzel bread in her hand.
loose threads 