Ebb and Flow

You reintroduced this term to me, used it often and found great assurance in your understanding of it. I developed further recognization of it, found disdain for the idea of it and began to further practise decisions on it. I claimed myself to be a rather high individual carrying the deep lows in life in general.

Somehow out of despair, rises the sweet heaviness of beautiful relief.
Is the ebb and flow what we feel – our reactions to occurrences outside our control? Or the reality of nature and our perceivement of it?

Your ebb has proven to be the tired, disengaged replica of a toothy snail. Your flow, the drunk in your drink. You release such ebb and flow in this manner.
If one feels the flow and ebb, but the other does not, does it cancel it’s existence?
Does the stillness in the ebb, furnish the room of flow? So much so, the greater the pullback of the ebb, the stronger sense of flow ?

Is it more difficult to be with someone who ebb/flows at stronger tide or who doesn’t? If both ebb/flows are similar, does it produce larger volumes of efficiency? Does life make more sense together or does ones ebb reflect the others flow and such accordingly so, that an elegant balance is discovered? Only to fall out of sync here and there thus, the supply of flow is full and becomes in demand?
Will my ebb and flow tell me about who I am? What will the origin reasons mean?

The ebb an flow of lava, surely is not the same as musty plastic pellets or clear, untouched chocolate milk?
How much damage does ebb/flow do? How beneficial, how much can we utilize the characteristics of it?
Do some people feel they need it more than others?
Are they higher risk of uncommmitance, with greater frustrations? Does it take more to satisfy them?

To label life as ebb and flow hardly seems necessary- yet we bring it naturally into our discrepancies to perhaps exhale some of the repercussions.
Ebb and flow is each our own natural state of the now. But is it?
How far does natural go, when you preempt the ebb/flow just to feel the lack of numbness?

Is this just manipulating the ebb and floofery? I flow so hard, I ebb.

Sometimes your ebb creates the perfect opportunity for my flow. And when I present with that, my flow dissolves your ebb. And I can’t decide if the term ebb and flow is just a way to describe sometimes our weak ability to accept our excuses.

It’s Inside

Sometimes dramatic thoughts and not thinking about the realistically or literally or common sensically, way, is fun. It’d endearing to my own self. I believe in it . For the fun. For the youthfulness.
And standing on that once upon a time wizard feel, is a fantastic. I feel the confidence that comes with being proud. that’s easy to feel when you have the audience praise popping around the stage of life you’re making. And when you don’t , when you find that the spark’s been sucked up, or you cant light wet ash, you create the fire,you become the rest of the part you stumbled with.
In growing older, you question whether you are being the so young so too much and you wonder about the crowd u want to attract
.
And once you realize the place you want to exist in for yourself, you can love that you can know the power in the relationship you make with who you are.

Wisdom Chews

My hair smells like bacon
and my ice has turned to water.
I’m fishing in my mind for a bite,
but all I can feel is that the sun is getting hotter.

And get this,
it is night.

My pants are all getting tighter on me,
wish my grip on life was.

I’ll get out of this.

And I will not run with it,
I will walk it into it’s place.

I will run with freedom.
And I will carry nothing but
my own weight.

There are comedians,
are there life analysts that joke about the mundane and the reality of life?

Or
are those two the same things?

I’ll be fine.
I know I am.
Sometimes I create the tornado so that I can spin out of it
clear headed.
As if all the cobwebs and gunk,
spun in control
to my own spin.

And then I ballarina away
on my tippy toes.

I’m closer to the sky that way
don’tchuu know?



Silhouetted You

I picture sunlight that hasn’t hit horizon yet to be able to call it setting but in the sky, bright and small, not big and hot, but glowing and warm and nice.

the sky not black. not bright blue sky. not cheesy sunset orange either. but this faded, darker yellow. warmth… with depth.

Warmpth.

And i picture you half-silhouetted, half blurry, half in frame of the polaroid being taken, half out, but smiling huuuuuuge.

You may be something different to me then what you really are. But you’re still real. To me.

Clarity

Chipped up bananas with sauce the colour of an August sunrise.
Bent from clues across the globe, this place carries itself in it’s own hands.
Careful not to crunch in the dill, that spice is for the yellow rubber ducks. Free from speech because it’s expensive to make one. Or we’re not captured when we speak, only capturing audiences we can’t control.

I won’t buck at stars, but I will drink stars for a few bucks.
I will try not to do E and cough, but I will drink coffee.
Drinks are all the power in your system. Monsters, bulls with wings, even the captain sends morgan to connect with you. As hazy as that gets, they’ll always be the stars to drink, yeah it’ll cost you a few bucks, but the cost of clarity is indispensable.

Choosing Choices

I’m gonna buy a little point and shoot. A little camera shot, instead of tequila.
I’m gonna buy a little knowledge. I am on a ledge and I know it.

I’m gonna burn my tongue on fireworks, just to make the fire work.
Gonna warm my hands like my heart hasn’t ever been cold.

This is a blast into a wallless arena.

And I make the walls and the choices and I abide by them and the hallways that are created.
Sometimes, there are windows though. And they’re big enough for me to fit through.

I’m gonna crawl through one like I’m a baby again.

The sun feels better outside.
And I’ve been inside for too long.