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Mild tides hover me so warm. My breath is ice that swims through my whimisical hair, and the light that surrounds me beats down into hallow tombs. For it strums my soulful seeds, and takes in turbulent song that weeps for the masses. For the dark hours seep through spongy spirits, and create dancing blisters inside jubilant halls of crescent minds. My frothy visions have become your shaky embrace, but I shall not dive into your egotistic waters.

There are tidbits of information, that cannot be conceived, that cannot be relinquished. Material minds move happily across the flaming sky. Church bells sing to they who have been buried in the ground. Frozen souls melt into the islands of the sky which blankets the earth with baby blue. Creamy, ostracized, dreams flow freely through the tides of my tears. Whimsical one, stop bathing in these foamy waters of your disease. Plaid are your words that devour me whole. I am then sucked through the lace of this cake. Cotton candy seduces my tongue in so many delightful ways. How can I count them? For they are more than I have fingers to count with. Children roller skate across the spongy moon. For you are like a cloud that carries burdens of Creation; only to build and build until you can hold no more. For then there is a release.

I cannot take a breath without crying out your name. I sing my heart at night for the bleeding souls of the earth. I am not an illusion. For I am the water of your body. Come lift me up into your soulful arms. For I will not be deserted by your fateful lines. Pour out your willful spirit unto me. For I cannot reach the clouds without your gateways to heaven. I fall every time I attempt to climb Jacob's ladder.

Rainbows float lifelessly down an inflated river. Melancholy serenades salty sunsets with feverish songs. Boldy, I stumble upon whispering cracks in your violated floor, and sneezing trees wrap their bold arms around my flaming tresses, sending me further into my oceanic grave.

Learn more about this author, Joanna Maharis.
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