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Are We Having Fun Yet?I enter the room. The dark is thick with smoke, a cocktail of various cigarette brands and illegal herbs. Each breath is hot and oppressive. Already, my only thought is getting the stench out of my clothes. Loud ambient music thwarts hope of any intelligent conversation. The room's full of white kids from suburbia, come down to my town because they've got nothing better to do, and because the police here are too busy to shut down a party for a little noise and under-aged drinking.Are We Having Fun Yet?
A growing zombie mob stands near the speakers, under a set of brightly colored lights. &nb
by ~Viemexis
I Was HereI passed a shack asleep on the highway side, all white, buried to the knees in the snow that swallows the tracks I remember. I could sneak in, if I wanted.I Was Here
A second down the street and I forgot it again, but as I slipped by I felt its moths eat me.
by ~Viemexis
BarefootI'm one inch shorter and I know things. I know when the grass sticks wet, where the sidewalk crumbles, cracks. I know how the rain slicks streets, how the tires slide streaks in the dirt.Barefoot
The leaves will die in colors and I'll dance in their dust. Every thorn and thistle pricks me but I'll prance with grace on knives. I am one inch shorter and a juggernaut.
by ~Viemexis
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And what's the real lesson? Don't leave things in the fridge.
I also think it reminds me of our last conversation.....I hope u like
What I want to know about you ...
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your life's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have been shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you're telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself, if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray you own soul.
I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty everyday, and if you can source your life from God's presence.
I want to know if you can live with the failure, yours or mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes'!
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.
It doesn't interest interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
Thats what I want to know.
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The truth of how precious something is will be revealed after you lose it
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A riot of my own
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I touched a llama once.
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