I love the wild rush of cycling fast...
I love it when the cold wind whips my face and warms my lips...and goes through every strand of my hair..my being...and makes me one with her soul...and then the warm feeling that follows...of running ...into a soft retreat.
It liberates me...i know its something I'm doing outside...so how can it free me from inside?but then there i am..even if for a split second...it makes me free...to love..to understand..to fly..
All this is mo
Words just make everything so concrete. In want of moulding all my feelings to words,.. I let them creep into me. And eventually all my feelings are reduced to words. I’m no longer even responding to stimuli. I’m merely translating what I see to English… to the limit that I try to think about things, feelings that should legally move me…but all I’m doing is articulating them… I just tell everything that happens to me, again to me… and in the end all they do is to brush my co
As the final wisps of smoke clears, my memory begins to unhaze, shyly. To let it go, or not to let it go- that is the question.I sigh with rememberance. Unio Mystica. Psychedelia. Ecstasy. Same Goddess. Different religions. It's hard. It's hard to remember., to differentiate, when you're drunken with chaos. Which part of it was dancing, talking, tears,remorse, anger, guilt, love, walking, running...from others. From oneself?
To see the lights of the lawns, dissolve to nothin