More blue than green.

I wouldn't say I was jealous... I'd just say I was... Disheartened. If that's what they were looking for, then I'm definitely not in the right ballpark for this league. I mean, if you JUST decided that you didn't want little young things, don't go hydro-ballin' through the playground, you know what I mean? Recipe for disaster. And dramas.

We don't want no drama. No, no drama. No, no, no, no drama.


Regardless, I still love you.

Smells like Chicago after the rain.

So I picked the school. I have a light at the end of my tunnel. I suppose this is that part I always forgot - when you actually walk towards your goals. How exciting! It's like watching from a third person point of view. Now connect A to B... Good. Now hold B and move A forward. Good. Now move B past A. Good. Now you're moving forward.

And it's all I need to know.

So get it if you want it and I want it in the worst way.

Mixed Media

I love days like today when it's crisp like winter but alive and blurry like springs.

Oh,


And I've found another one.


Another one that tugs at my artstrings.

A Fairytale from History.

Elle + Pig.

Look who made a friend.

To the first.

A romantic walk & a kiss to the first who shows me something new.

The weight on my chest.

The responsibility of this all is incredible.
That split second when your heart beats in slow motion,
And you're looking out the window as your pupils dialate
Trying to take in everything you've just taught yourself.
And you feel the panes shaking, but they're only sitting still
Staring back at you waiting for you to step forward.
Your ears to that funny click, where everything suddenly becomes an E flat
That sounds loudly then decrescendos into the same thing
You've been listening to your whole life.
And you never knew it was an E flat.

So much time knowing the same thing
Over and over and over.
But the smallest things drop hints that you most likely sweep up.
And they're lost in the window, they hide in the stairway.
They hang in the curtains and they sleep in your hat.
They dangle from your wrists and neck.
They drip ink softly into your skin.
They whisper in your ear during the lulls in a symphony.
They burrow in the bristles of a fan.
They jump out of alleyways, and they peer out of others' eyes.
Waving at you as you walk by.

And it may be 20 years before you notice.
It might be 50 before you wave back.
But it's always there, it's what creates a part.
The Turks won't take this one.
This won't be your Laocoon.
But the responsibility burns in me.
To carry on the history, the lives, and the hearts.
There will be no replacements.
And there will be no excuses.

Kettle.

Beaucoup.

Mercy, mercy me.

Could this have been the break I was waiting for?

Chocolate lips on hard bronzed kisses?
Did I get my fill?
Razor sharp blades against a plastered wall?
Is time quickly ticking against my will?

Who knows. I'm going for it.


Do I belong to the man now? Who knows, right?

This entry should have been titled "?", but beaucoup will have to do, to do.

I remember when we'd spin so fast, we'd forgotten where we'd started.

Wind up, because here we go again. Cryptic, cryptic, cryptic. We're just going for a ride, that's all. Want to come?

These words have no books and these actions have no ideas.

I wish someone could inform me as to why I never seem to reach my own goals. Anyone else's I can reach.

Always fearing instead of investigating or inventing.

Silly girl. You know this chance is for you. Give me your best shot. I'm wide open.

1:1