By @theofficialsadghostclub

By @theofficialsadghostclub

does he like poetry? surely he has to there's sonnets in his eyes stanzas in his laugh metaphors fall from his smile there's prose in the way he says my name does he know how hard i have to try to put him into words when no diction can express the symbolism hidden in his voice

~he simply cannot be confined to paper

Summery She is cotton candy and postcards, an ode to summer just before the solstice. Her timing is not great but the world turns with or without plans of silly storytellers. There is no worry when you’re laughing. Look how the fern curls, she thinks, all green and cool and soft. A little rain and she is soft too, with thoughts of ancient songs built around stones placed by whim or aliens or giants. Somehow time has woven sunbeams into sugar, hot and sparse like deserts making way for daydreams of castles and roses.

Indian Paintbrush..

One Big Rush-Joe Satriani