twoblueviolets

it was like a sink that was overflowing, built up and up and up.

then it was drained; the pipes rusted over; the slight drip and drip and drip.

tantalizing.

then the water rushed like geysers do, hot and momentarily solid.

Formerly titled "An Ode to A Wasteland"

I don't hate you. I never have, I promise.

There's moments, glimpses, murmurs in my head

that I think maybe

maybe I hate you

Brazil, the year forgotten. The sun is rising. 

The ocean longs for her beloved moon but she has already gone down. The sun has taken her place and the water finds no comfort in him.

Blind the jury. Blind the voters. 

Wrap white fabric over their eyes, stuff white cotton in their ears. Make them as blind and deaf as Justice herself. 

My friend's home is beautiful. 

It's got green walls with flowers all over. The floor is soft and plush. It's warm but only in summer, and it's too cold in winter. But my friend likes it just fine.