call me old fashioned

my eyes scan the page from line to line. all the red letters blur and swirl through my vacant mind. like waves on the shore, they will crash against my skull and then quickly recede back to the pages they came from. the wind caresses my skin and dances in the treetops as i stand before an endless green ocean of trees, with a blank expression.

organic cemetery

the clock strikes ten as wires turn to veins and climb up the ceiling and crawl down the walls. this room is alive again. the pounding of the heart drowns out our voices and rattles in our chest. you don't have to be brave, i can see the tears in your eyes. the blood of jaded men is rising fast. keep your head above the surface and don't swallow their lies. with every heartbeat a new captive helplessly becomes part of the room. slowly they sink into the walls, their heartbeats' indistinguishable from that of the room. their lives once defined by beautiful imperfection and individual potential now defined by bleeding walls and frayed wallpaper. i can feel the room closing in on me as i compromise my aspirations. i can feel it's warm breathe on my cold neck as it whispers to me in a grey voice. it tells me to drop my morals and swim in the flood. it's breathe reecks of relativity. the clock strikes twelve, this is it. the room is almost filled to the roof, swim for saftey darling before it takes you too. i can feel myself dissapear as i become one with the room.

white box

hese pretty, white-washed walls, that keep me safe, are only getting taller. the cracks in the cement are held together by layers of cheap, neon graffiti. it's a beautiful display of our growing intellectual supremecy. with words like 'theology' and phrases like 'legalistic liberty' scribbled artistically to remind ourselves of the treasure we've found. we dream in an atmosphere of spray-paint slogans. we live in a perpetual state of fear as the bold letters warn of the danger that lurks beyond the walls. i'm addicted to this security, but i can't help but wonder what's outside these walls i've known all my life. i'm done letting my mind play trick on me, i'm letting go and i'm taking a risk. when i finally opened my eyes i couldn't help but notice the old, canvas billboard in between the wild, carefree branches.

analyze the conclusion

s it true that an entire ocean, in all it's pride, could be bottled up inside one single shell? and then set free one day by the brave little girl or the curious little boy who has enough faith to put their ear to the shell? all uncontainable beauty aside, we cut down the jungle and we built efficient little gardens. don't be so naive sweetie, you're swallowing the same growth hormones that gave our lettuce a spine and drinking the same pesticides that gave the carrots a tongue. if theology can control our god than maybe he lives in our imagination. i'm done playing in this seasick game. at least the rules are simple enough: wash only your own feet and never get caught frowning. the captain said he spotted land but we capsized at the docks. grace died in the pews. we may walk upright on two legs but that doesn't mean we can talk with the sun. since when did poetry compose the rigid structure of our rulebook? o god save us from our own minds.