shallow dreams

This is of two worlds–the one diurnal men know and that other world where lunar mottled eels stir like dreams in shallow forest water.
—  Christopher Dewdney, opening lines to “This is of two worlds …,” The New Oxford Book of Canadian Verse in English, chosen by Margaret Atwood (Oxford University Press, 1982)

kingsy  asked:

turquoise, coral, shallows, tsunami

turquoise: weirdest dream you’ve ever had?

i have too many falling dreams but…theyre all with stairs??? so theyre more like tripping dreams i guess

coral: if you had to describe your personality as a food, what would you be and why?

some form of comfort food thats kinda versatile, and can also put some effort to be a bit great i guess. like a pasta dish or ramen. 

shallows: answered!

tsunami: describe a dream outfit of yours.

ive always wanted modern pieces inspired by maldivian traditional wear. it’d be cool to have a more chill version of this (ideal grad dress i guess??) either as a gown or a jumpsuit

New Moon’s Daughter

I wake as the sun is dreaming of shallows. Holy heart
with your bright black stain.
Oh poor melancholy princess, your stinking humbug rug
(as always, the inevitable cry of Waste!)

In the end, the real question is: who breached the breach
and killed the rabbit?
Well, I only look at the sky. I am a fool
for all of its answers. Even hear me say, Dear God,
and think of things nobody else repeats–
you’ll find I exist as my own island, shuddering towards some home.

And who has time these days for the odd, old world?
I am tired, tired, tired
I am rolled flat and cooked to a crisp. Oh princess
your frivolous mouth, your righteous fit
(nitwit, nitwit)
I thought maybe I loved you
(and then, what came of it?)

I wake as the sun is dreaming of lonely things,
unhappy things. I wake and the sea is there and my body
is crusted as the rocks. Princess, pretend I am crazy!
I am crazy, crazy, crazy!

I wake, convinced that half my mind
has lost itself to slaughter.

8

Chad Michael Murray as Lucas Scott on One Tree Hill, Season 2; 2.20 “Lifetime Piling Up” Part ½

RM- Voice (trans)

I didn’t have a dream
I am as my lyrics were
the functions and equations didn’t give me an answer
they all eventually turned to suns,
the sunlight hiding the stars behind it
It kills me everyday
the grade numbers printed on papers were meaningless
I just wanted to succeed
I live by the words others are bored of
I thought my happiness comes together with it
but I was never happy sitting at the study table, 
my exercise books were left empty without my mother knowing
my identity lies between the drum bases
different than receiving my report card, I could breath
I was never at ease even with 1st place,
should I have the eagerness others had
rather than living my only life sighing
I chose the path that allows me to breath
they pointed fingers at me, the shallow people around me

my dream is letting others hear my voice
with whatever image I had, with my music and lyrics
I don’t know how you feel when you hear this
I don’t mind you cursing at me, you’ll still search for me in the end
even after 7 years, I’m still using a 50k won mic ($45)
forever alone in the corner of the room making mixtapes 

Some say I’m fake, alright I’ll agree to my dark pasts
I can say excuses but I wont, those things wont happen again
Yeah I be real, the only thing I’m serious for now
the pedals I’ve stepped on for 7 years are finally being oiled

You can’t kill. Come take it if you do wanna piece of me
I’ll tell it though my songs, nothing more than that
If you really think you ready to fly with my power
This is what R is about fella the time is now

I increase the volume of my voice silently
to identify it, to connect to myself
I increase the volume of my voice again,
to identify it, to connect to myself

I increase the volume of my voice silently
to identify it, to connect to myself
I increase the volume of my voice again, 
to identify it, to connect to myself

The Season

The season fills my lungs
with new air, pushing out
the stagnant, brackish
love of what is now before.

My muse grabs my wrist
as if to say “I’m here”
but only leaves me pulling
away. I’ve been sleeping
in a shallow grave, dreaming
of a time when I could
expose myself carelessly,

dreaming vividly, lucidly,
always flying without wings,
longing to remain in the present
without moving forward.

While still stuttering cliche
phrases I’ve heard others say,
my heart screams at the
top of its lungs for someone
or some thing to resuscitate
me back to what I once was
but will never be again.

And like the buds on the trees,
I stand ready to burst & bloom
with the season of birth,
the season of sorrow,
and the season of change.