The heart

My heart is an old oak chest

(your heart is a muscle the size of your first)

My heart is a mid-swoop falcon

(your heart is a muscle the size of your fist)

Well then maybe, if I go slow and careful, i can put it inside you

Advertisements

I’m not afraid of ghosts

I’ve never felt reluctant to leave a job before, or like I’d miss it. It’s weird. Every day that i have to go do a tour, it feels like the last fucking thing in the world i want to do. I dread it, I’m so over it, but there’s still something about it that i love. Something weird and small and magical about it. being a part of this bizarre, dysfunctional group, doing the most random job ever, it’s cool. It’s special. It’s an elite club and i could explain what it’s like all night, but if you haven’t done it you can’t really know. we know. We’re there together, and we know. It’s also an 11 year old girl walking up front with you, asking you questions and telling you in confidence that she thinks her room is haunted. It’s the look of wonder you see in her eyes and you fed that. You stacked the wood and stoked it. The world is still magical for her and you made it that way. I’m ready to be done, I’m ready for a new chapter, but i think i might miss that.

Sky

Maybe i am a house filled with mysterious rooms. Maybe I’m the answer to my hopes renewed. Maybe I’m the one the ghosts of the 1977 blackout will talk through. Time is thin line important and my demons shouldn’t make themselves excuses. No. The vase didn’t break itself. I shouldn’t let my demons be excuses. I shouldn’t let myself excuse. Read a boring book. Go to sleep. Don’t have anything but new fresh dreams