Speak to me, on bended knee!
“O sweet dreams, my dreary queen!”
Sail away on those ships of yours
Past the end, over the floors
Of a raging Ocean, with waves as tall
As my clouds, the love that won’t fall…
~My words on paper mean nothing at all, for in a moment of rage it can all be lost, tossed and torn, gone without a moment’s notice. I would prefer to write my words in the forever sky; my moments saved in a world solely for the heavens…~
Scream at me, the words you’ll never need,
Write them in the sky, so far from your seas.
The ships that you sail lack the wings
To carry you away with all of your things.
“My clouds are mine, the heavens untouched!”
So this love is mine; a pallet waiting on your brush…
I just want to read books for a weekend, without worrying about work or the world. I want to take away my sense of responsibility, for myself and every other self within a 10,000 mile radius. I want to spend hours browsing at bookstores, moving my fingers along exposed spines. Between all the paper and ink, I am a Queen. I am the only voice of power, and only by my mercy will these voices be heard. The threat is, of course, hollow. My feet, face, hands, stomach, legs…so my entire body… it’s shaking and wiggling and it’s impossible to hide my desire to read every last pen stroke in this paradise. I just want that sort of weekend. Hell, I just want that sort of life. And maybe somebody who wants to make a book club, just for 2.