Quake part 5

Honestly, I was buried alive. Millions were buried, but somehow I was saved, saved by someone who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was fine, just fine with dying. I  could accept dying at home in the home I kew as a child---where my mother rocked me to sleep, where dad would pat my head while leaving to work, and years later when Lucca would make me breakfast and where my brother would chase me around the house. I was so tired, I couldn't fight anymore.

Yet, some part of me kept fighting, it heard the voices, and so my breathing continued. Some people talk about the survival instinct, not sure how much I believe in that stuff, who would want to survive to this state of humanity, I sure didn't. I was destined to die the long and hard way out. But, Damn it, I just wouldn't die!

Weightless

I dreamed of sand castles so you built me an ocean
with coast to coast beaches so that i could sculpt my sand.
I breathed in wildflowers so you chased down every seed in the providence
 to build me a meadow, so that i could chase the scent.
I wished for starry nights where i was less lonely
so you chased down the moon and caught it in a jar.
 where it remained no bigger than your thumb.
You gave me everything and i never asked you just knew.
You knew i longed for flight so you built me wings or paper towns and mason jars
so that the sun reflected fractal forms of light....
you gave me wings to carry me to my dreams.

Stormy Night

I met you in a storm, where the people were rain. Downpour and soaking wet I saw you fall and slip in a puddle of people. You never were one for rainstorms you didnt like the bittertaste of asphalt or the humid air that plastered your hair to your face after the storm. Lightning cracked way to many jokes that thunder didnt understand, and the grey clouds put a damper on the mood. You didn't like rainstorms- how they popped up unexpectantly and oh how you hated how the trees would droop. 

You prefered the sunny days when people were an azure sky that masked unhappy faces that are forced to be happy.

Sunny Day Running

As much as I dislike the pounding and thundering of my heart as it spikes from my chest to my throat and head. As much as I hate my muscles straining and pulling as i push myself uphill. However, running does something that no amount of writing, flirting, and being me can do. Ipod blasting a random pop song set on repeat, my pace matching the bass on the back drop of the song. I find that my mind is at it's clearest, when i am burning my joints. I find the most inspiration when my body is being pushed to do something it hates. None of this is making sense now, perhaps i ramble when i dont know how to explain. Explain that the only reason i am running is to balance my sanity.