Dear Pages

Its like his passion is locked in a world of full of fast cars. Everyone elses seem so shiny and new, gifted and confident. sad he feels like his car barely moves and the scratches from his past ware deep into his 18 year old paint. Get it out! he screams don't feel these things! but words are not his gift. No his imagination is his escape. He looks at the sky and doesn't see clouds more like dancing whirl winds of painted feathery mist. He allows his mind to relax letting his mind leak out from the pen in his hand. It touches the paper like fire uniting with its long lost gasoline, and it goes and it goes. Round up and down over and out in and back. Jagged and angry and like that its relaxed. He thinks no thoughts that make sense to most as he bleeds his feelings like these emotions are his only hope. A hope at being normal and more like the rest maybe then they would see he is worth their time and not their protest. No mistakes he chants in his head for these very words are his personal bible and every direction the pen goes is exactly where it is supposed to be and when it begins that's is the only possible answer to where the these thoughts have been. Every line and sway or flicker of ink, every smudge and swirl is exactly as his mind unknowingly intends the thought to end. and as the pen moves he is in his own world seeing of black and white, sepia tone. Bright colors and far spaces, stars and fire. Clouds and dragons. Eagles and bears, Big jumps, and long hikes far thoughts and huge accomplishments that he hides in his brain letting only the pen tell the paper the secrets of his minds foreign thoughts and how they will end.

Dear Pages

There is no beginning no end. Not a circle more like the wind. He is all that I can think about although I pretend not to give in. he has become the everything I wake to see each and every day. I need him more than the ocean thirst’s for every grain of salt on this earth, I love him more than mere words or even my eyes could ever tell. He is my rock. He is all that I breathe. Everything I know, All that I need. I am captivated in his presence and in lust with his silence, the prints of his hands forever embrace mine. He is my love beyond all loves this earth or even one person could ever fathom. To write a thousand more words would give no justice to the grip he has on my heart. my sanity, my existence. Can’t say more. No word. Neither one definition, nor any action could describe my love for he, I love only.

Dear Pages

Its like a dream, maybe a nightmare. I close my eyes and my body relaxes the muscles that hold me together. My mind stays awake while my eyes sleep. My thoughts are jumbled; they run through my mind like an anthill in the middle of a rainstorm. None with real substance, nothing I care to try and remember. I fall deeper and I can feel my self letting go. My eyes slowly start to relax, and I fade to black. When my eyes open I am already running, full speed. I am passing people and objects like I am the fastest being alive. The wind is hitting my skin at what feels like 55 miles an hour. I breathe deeply of the earthy smells around me and am consumed by the feeling of being free and alive running with no purpose, just running because I can. All at once I realize I am in a panic. My heart is pounding, seems my mind never stopped racing. I only glazed over the real reason I am running, with joyous thoughts of being one with earth. Something is behind me. pursuing me. Advancing on me. I glance back and see nothing, but I cant slow down because I can feel the heavy breathing of an evil force on my neck, hot, heavy breath. Thick with hate; for me. I start to feel weary as my body begins to tire it aches so badly; I need to stop. NO! keep going push harder Eboni keep running! You can do this. No don’t you dare CRY don’t give up its coming! Make your strides faster! Its not possible I cant I am at my breaking point! I cant go on! Why am I running!? I begin to argue with my thoughts like they are running beside me. I cant take the pressure. I duck into a crevis hidden in the ground. I can feel the force pass me. I immediately get up and run the opposite direction, where am I going? How will I get back? The force lost me so I slow to a steady pace. Walking down long dark streets. I can hear voices in their own worlds. One voice is particularly clear to me, it feels safe. like grandmas hands. so I follow it. When the voice stops. I stop. When it begins; I start again. I follow this voice that has no words for what feels like hours. Feels like a trance but, I know its not because I know I can stop when I want… but how do I get my mind to relay that message to my limbs? I glance down and watch small feet that immediately start to pain me at the realization they are bare. Where am I going? Where do I stop? Is my mind so complex when put to rest to compose this world I find myself trapped in? Is this a nightmare or can I call it a dream and when I awake will I be tired from all this running?

My line

Slip into these pages, like falling a deep sleep. Lye away and dream a mesmerizing reverie. the words in my mind have no pictures or sound yet when I write them down they are so very profound. If you could see my thoughts you might become afraid. my brain holds no boundaries, its like thinking in a maze. Or trying to paint a picture with no color at all. So that every stroke you make only your mind can recall. I shall design a world on these pages that will look different to every eye. the very letters you read will dance and form a tale that only your imagination can describe. What an exciting adventure we are about to partake. So come with me and I will introduce you to a wondrous land where nothing is bland. Where there are no walls or boundaries to conform you to the mass. Or quick sand and races that might leave you last. You can be whomever your mind truly see if you will but take my hand and follow where I lead.

- Eboni