The stealthy one is a healthier soul. Whatever and whomsoever gets you through will likely be decorating your orbit for years to come. Those utterances that truly show up as you involve them in the corners of the sooty moonless crying anxiety fits or the short-tempered bitter snippety swipes your dialogue blows through the long-distance zone when you can’t stop the tirade. The charade is thinking that we’re meant to dance every day. When, sometimes, the sole flicker of movement is my middle finger straight up into the air. We get single seconds en masse to do, but not to redo. Investigating our disasters bequeaths some drastic gobsmacking. My prediction is that anywhere you feel you’ve (been) disappointed you actually disappointed yourself the most. There’s forever room for your undercover defense. Make it trendy to usher your sparkles inside.
Admitting our wonders abound can be like snapping for anyone without fingers. The art of location lies in the concept of insight. The average creature settles into the belief that there’s only one way in or out. Let’s suppose our only job is joy. I want us to marinate in the irrefutable imagination of our visions being something acutely tangible. Maybe your heart throbs for courageously connected conversation and another chooses cum between their gums (apologies if too crude; it’s an occasional mood). With every lover’s arms draped in voluptuous throes round a neck, I wish each of us courting a kindness that inflames the embers of anything hostile that’s ever left us running scared. I plead you marry elation and make out with ecstasy no less than seven times a week. It’s of void matter how traditionally sexy your magic is or not.
May we faze in abundant aplomb. Our grandest protection is possibility. Your cleverest trusts are those defaults of happiness. The sly cats who purr as loudly when you’re edgy or shucking erotic layers of your psyche on a seven-course silver platter New Year nibbling meal. Embracing where I’ve been useless is quite a monument of guilt. Yet, if I can be torn and still unbreakable wouldn’t that be a treat! One’s poise arises from the fabrication of palaces versus dungeons (and, no, I’m not alluding to any of you BDSM types on the latter). It could be as frail as an icy flake of snow meeting your warm fingertip or a sunbeam stretching to streak a patch of shadow. Perhaps, it’s impeded with the seal of defeat. Then, it’s radically flourishing for months. Whatever you carve after all has been taken and given amounts to your power.
My open book philosophy of sharing myself intensely caught me off-guard during 2020’s gyration. I idolized hiding in plain sight. Albeit, I didn’t thoroughly know it. I ached for tons of private girlie retreat-style gatherings indoors that were as lengthy as a luxury honeymoon. I anguished over how I failed to figure career payment for oddball things such as watching a Mork & Mindy marathon. I lusted for the same man I’ve been following since my teen age ~ that elusive ‘one’. I hoped for Monseigneur Swank to not merely sprinkle me with his presence, he’d shower (with) me daily. I bathed in books that filtered the muddy waters of my mind into clear streams of naturally unpolished beautification. I rode about 85% of the waves of silence like a pro. It was deeply alluring to taste the flavor of falling in love with my tangled, while tangy, self.
Cheers to simmering in the soup of no angry way to say savory. Strange might just be a resource to rearrange what’s been attesting for plenty of generations. This next beginning has a reputation for piling on expectations or assumptions of discernable progress. I’m gonna halt you right there. I’ve learned there aren’t enough synonyms for ‘gentle’ that cover us as easily as the blanket of comfort that’s needed when we’re bearing down on ourselves. Be free to sync your rhythm simpatico with the victory of every breath we make being a lifetime in itself. If you smell yourself walking the fire explore that the fire can be walking you. There’s a feverish nonchalance to the act of raising heat within your wake. Welcome your brilliance slipping through small chambers or boldly dumping moxie from everywhere all-around your fresh 365 deck.
What if all the shards of our yesterdays are the armor we collect to score our dreams?