Reblogged from House of Heart:

We begin making things up by six or seven. Minds of hummingbirds we sip from wells of illusion. Come with me to the eddy of an ever prodding muse to dip our wings in her breathtaking colors.

I Leave as though I am going to work. Instead I walk downtown to meld with the chaotic masses, searching eyes infused with survival.

Read more… 246 more words


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