a message for you.
please excuse my dust as this blog site is still under construction.
sleep && dream of nothing w/ you sounds good to me.
(posted on Wednesday, July 6 by eii wyy nae.)
dear addric feng,
we will wake up in the spring in NZ, in the daffodils, the the frost, w/ the dark months melting around us to reveal things that have died && things that have grown in their place. but @ first the sun will bee too bright && our eyes will roll in their sockets to shield us from the rays. && when we adjust to the light we will see that we are @ the bottom of a hill, && we will climb, we will climb && climb until we are delirious && our legs can no longer carry us && things will become greener, plants will seem to explode w/ life, sap from the leaves, nectar from the flowers, dripping like molasses.
we will reach the top eventually, we will reach the top && realize that instead of a plain or a place to rest our head, we are standing on the edge. an edge behind us && an edge in front, balancing on a precipice. && we sway && we sway, dizzy from the height, the heat && the air that is so much thinner but so much sweeter && how we need it like a drug. we will raise our arms && feel the clouds like cotton candy wrestling against our arms, birds will tangle in our hair && we holdon just a second longer, cause' we know the name of this place is summer NZ, && we wanna keep it for as long as we can.
but the longer we stand, the more tired we get && suddenly the hill in front seems more inviting, like the times we remember from childhood when we would run down the steepest hills so fast our knees would nearly touch the ground && then our legs would buckle, we would fall && roll though the grass over over && over until we landed @ the bottom. && now we land in leaves, leaves of rust of russet, mustard && skeletons of leaves that once were. && we catch our breath, laying in the autumn debris @ the bottom of the hill, @ the edge of a forest.
&& when our breath is caught && locked once again inside our lungs we know that all we wanna do is sleep. sleep && dream of nothing. so we roll onto our hands && knees cause' we are tired && the shadows are long, we crawl, we crawl into the forest, the further we get the darker things become && all natural colours disappear. the world around us becomes a blueprint && the trees become ghosts of themselves. && when the snowflakes start to tickle our noses like feathers, we will find a place to curl up && close our eyes again, hibernating for what feels like years.
do you wanna do this w/ me.
~~~
Signed w/ love,
the diarykeeper, eii wyy nae dns.
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