Royal Blues & Silver Linings

It’s sweet; let’s meet in the middle,

where the blues meets the greys

where

riddles make tantric love, like scissors they cut.

Through colloquial terms and misunderstandings, my brain burns. It hurts not knowing how to sooth another; but you’re not a baby and I’m certainly not your mother. If you want to let’s talk

but

don’t you dare stalk the anxiety that already digs at my chest.

Like

bare bones, we grind and turn to dust.

We repeat generational curses on each other, like it’s instructional; it’s made of us. We oxidise, chat shit to each other and meekly turn into rust.

We head butt from miles away yet still we recreate the glimmer in the stars. We are big bangs, what depths will we not reach?

Gored-guts

My ego can be in tethers.

Head butts

My intuition can a bit under the weather.

Bludgeoned privates

Yet maybe sometimes completely ungrounded.

Stabbed in the back

My shell won’t open; it won’t crack.

My insides run like egg yoke

My yoni is woke.

My inner linings fold like silk

Cold at night but warm like that goodnight milk.

My windowed pain

Is my window pane

It’s connected to this foundation

But not placed on consecrated grounds.

My eyes know no bounds; I narcissistically gain foresight.

I have scope like a CCTV; my big head gets wobbly and dizzy.

Do I look like fucking Noddy?

Fizzy like Pepsi, my pressure needs to calm down. Too much Pascals. Like pastel colours, my insight washes everything down. Bare to its structure, it holds up the world like atlas.

My atlas spine is tired.

No really, I don’t want to be infamous or move with vengeance. I just want to be rambunctious along with my practices; I just want to process then access my progress. Be careful not to fly too high, you’ve got heat rash; listen to your instincts, you’re not icarus. Here feeling inquisitive and curious on how to strategise our roots through those narrow rows of groves gifted us by those who worked, gritted their teeth and damn near broke their bones; for our leisure. For some pleasure comes once in a life time. Others know not of the subject and don’t have time to study what can’t be labelled. So live and discover; recover what others couldn’t dream. Run on clouds to deliver your questions to your God; because what others cannot conceive you can conceptualise. Boof! Right before your very eyes, sing your blissful letters from here into the heavens. Melt the stars with your lullabies, don’t worry they will eventually collapse and form the same carbon within us; without ever saying goodbye.

My point is not everything beautiful lasts; don’t regret your past and know yours tasks. Just ask!

Be prepared and not prepared to let someone moitai kick you in your third eye.