.

be the fuck you want to see in the world.

re: bird.

a red bird flew down from the blue, perched itself in my line of view, among brown brush and gray ideas. it whistled and i stopped walking. it said, "now is your chance." i continued up the hill towards the blue.

the tallest man

There’s a crow moon coming in where you keep looking now
it is the hollow month of march now sweeping in
Let’s watch phenomenons arise out of the darkness
within the light, she’s my storming heroine.

And all machines abandoned by the ancient races
I hear them humming down below, in hollow earth
I guess I’ve known a while I will go under too
but just for now, I let the spring in storm return

I left my heart to the wild hunt coming
I’ll live until the call
and I plan to be forgotten when I’m gone
I’ll be leaving in the fall

- Kristian Matsson

.

i'm turning on the light to the strangest forms.
ninjas and samurais.

sitting in the sky with a brand new friend
who always tells the truth.

we're sharing horror stories, some horror films.
sex comes to kill you in the end.

eyes on the lake, the same mistakes
surfacing behind my tired face.

i'm dancing in the night with the strangest forms.
swans and olympians.

swimming in the lake with an old friend
who only knows the truth.

crying for no reason, crying for fun.
maybe we're dying.

the rise.

When I was at the bottom… the lowest rack of guns, cheapest drivers, kids size shoes… someone told me that you had to hit rock bottom before you could climb to the top. At the bottom of everything the top is all that is visible, and the middle is just a blur. The rise: a colourful variable. I said to the top of what? What am I climbing? But the person who had spoken was close to me and knew that they didn’t need to say anything more, just let me brew. A single thought can cause inner change and revolution of the soul. Anything that could spur a voyage from the gutter, rolling back into the road to be hit again by speeding vehicles, that kind of life alteration would have to come from within me, not from anyone else. Advice is worthless to those who aren’t listening, deaf to their surroundings, blind to self-destruction. But from the lowest of lows I began to listen. Listen to friends and to the nature around me. The air had stories and the streets held perspectives. And I spoke to myself, and I heard… And I climbed.

kick.

i'm not hard to find.
i am out in the day.
the sunlight dripping down my face
like honey moving slow to sweeten,
so sticky, so driven.
push aside weeds, push through bad deeds.
the air is back and so is the river.
every step i take for stronger ankles,
straighten out my back
and fly.

HOLD ON FOR THE END

see see riding is easysysy
slowfade slow fades lowfade
springing ringing in my head
smooth and delicate as the horizon
soft to touch touch
way too much much much
for my tiny hands and stands
activating sweat glands
bodytouch
see see sea me in a late night
come on my quick flight
to a quick love
so quick kick
you are beautifullll
it's sick.

the back path.

old friends never go away. i threw a pebble in the lake and i could see faces i hadn't seen in years. they will remain, and when they don't then life will no longer be worth it. if i don't live for others, then who do i live for? certainly not for myself.

we would walk the back path with two guitars and no directions. talking to the trees. talking to me and my ghosts. and then we swam out and never really came back. i'm here but i am not here. sick with love of the past, taking shallow breaths, trying so hard to keep the muscles going forward into nothing. and the nothing is the most beautiful thing i have ever seen.