dey_dizzle dey_dizzle

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Adey πŸ‡³πŸ‡¬  πŸ“ LA

If you don't do a happy skip/dance when you see your friends, are they even your friends? πŸ˜…Still buzzing from the best day ever thanks to all the you-know-whos that celebrated a new age with me.πŸ’›πŸ–€πŸ’›πŸ–€

To what end should we continue to hate when there is so much more we can conquer with happiness πŸ”†

She is the perfectly spiked cocktail of insecurity and power. She needs to match pain with pain, leaving pleasure to figure out how to be held. She is angry for having been left by herself to piece the world together, like a stone with two or more skips. And she resents often, like any human would. Especially on this journey she has chosen willingly. -
Her eyes have grown tired, variegated with red and white like a Daylily folding before dusk. Bedtime whispers...
She searches blindly in dreams for direction. For guidance. -
She picks up two oars from the dampened ground and pushes the teak boat towards open waters.
Her arms become one with the oars as miles sink into her clenched teeth as if standing for the first time.
-
She tastes a metallic goodbye like coins sliding in a slot machine down her throat. She is simultaneously heavy and light as if glass balloons can fly πŸ’›

I love the way women look at each other -
into their eyes and down to their mouths.
(raw shot by @brialysse)

How can we only love colors in paintings
But not in society?

When the flowers stop growing
and the balance of light heathers
and I can feel the land begging
for quiet, for solace
-
..My heart has but no choice
to listen, to listen- shh..
-
Can you hear the delicacy of summer
twist and bend her golden ring
tucking warmth under her luscious skins?
-
Can you fall into the shape of autumn
her tawny port, her lemon curry
knowing that with interlude comes change?
-
Can you accept, you too,
(your heart that is)
is always twisting and bending
balancing light upon a spectrum?
-
May you trust the change.

Sometimes I make my bed at 3pm only to unmake it several hours later.
Seems foolish, but there is fulfillment in the unfolding of sheets regardless of how many hours it was tidy.
-
My bedside clock tells the wrong time - typically a differential of 17 minutes. I know this, but there's something addictive about subtracting minutes.
-
The number 12 appears to me in several forms throughout the day and I'm convinced it's a spirit angel whispering "I love you's" upon a glance, begging me to pause and take a deep breath.
-
And yet everyday, we try so very hard to make sense of time, and the meaning of its construct. We attempt to justify routines, the past, the pauses... But time is not responsible for any of these. We are.

Have you invested in Bitcoin today?

I was walking to lunch as usual when I heard that loud noise. It was a car horn mixed with a horrifying sound of a scream. I saw a red car stopped at the pedestrian crossing and someone lying in front of it. After I recovered from the shock, I ran there to see who was hurt. I kneeled in front of the body to see if he was still alive. He was badly hurt. There was blood everywhere. Then I saw his face...
He had my face. Exactly the same, as if we were twins. I was petrified with fear and confusion when I heard the second noise. I turn around and there was a car coming towards me. Fast. I could only identify the color. It was red.
#luciddreaming

Her

Twelve messages sit unread
swimming obscure intentions
I ignore like a derailment
running free from its tracks.
Wildfires sedate me into oblivion
and I soak into their jungle
of wispiness and privilege.
I cut my roots from conversation
and drink nature's colors like fine wine,
letting my insides ferment with trees.

I'd swear I was born for solitude,
scratching crowds like fleas,
breathing in silence like my last.
Weeping with rain,
Burning with sun,
I am earth's tongue.

Little Red Riding Hood grew up.

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