In every thought before passing time -
that long slow time we're in -
I think of the sweet pulsing smell of a crowded place. My cherished passionate places of best adventures and long exuberant nights.
Of words I've said before and spells I've cast with dwindled time.
I can feel the dancing rhythm of a collective crowd; the spotlights that guide you sideways -
and the easy embrace of everyone around and with you.
Like so many of the places that I've left before, I try to conjure it vividly in my dreams
and empty mind - I try to go back.
I try to breathe passion in, like a recipe of memory.
Swirling the rocks in a whiskey drink
and remembering a time when all was happening.
When yearning was an appetite of joy - not a curse of silence.
When chasing the night and the mountains of someone new was bright escape - and free hope.
Now we threaten one another's safety - and we tempt the limits of our rules -
and we dare one another to give up rather than give in.
So I think of the freedom in becoming myself again - in undoing years of companies & regulations. To just be again - adorned in jewelry layers and barefoot soul.
Wandering to the roams of wolves within my wilderness -
of books & stories & long ago people that survive.
Because we can survive and become.
But for the first time in a decade's pass at growing up - I'd like to burn fences again.
I'd like to risk a tragedy with you - and get lost in the ending world of two -
loosing time from the outside.
Leave with me to imaginations - and make another song to sing.
So that in the next dawning of ages - we'll remember a little story that we were.
We'll forget it all, I know - and we'll walk back to what was.
We'll never be - but we could see,
the sunrise in each other's arms.
We could do all the plans of suffocating into flames.
We could smell the crowds together for just a little while.
We could end this world tonight.
Let me be this death of you.
. . .
