barefoot running along
green
sands of gothic library
walls
i am holding a bouquet of
balloon trees; she
stopped to
turn around and wave back
at my
future. don’t be afraid
of
my darkness because if
you
look closer only than can
you hear, see, feel, be
one
with my soul. they ask, “why
the darkness in your
art”?
i respond; it is my most
beautiful me, my most
unedited me
you will ever see. the
beautiful
decay of every day of
gone
and becoming me.
