You Can Only Imagine How Jealous My Mouth Is

I've been stashed away for awhile. Like winter clothing. Here's to a new internal season. It has been ice cream headaches and sweet avalanche since the pearls in our shells came out to play. Take out your pencils and place your books beneath your desk. It's time to be tested.

They aren't my secrets to tell. They are my promises to keep. That is how we should always be.

I wish I could get a notary to sign off your attention six months from now. Crush it up, drink it down. You're the only addiction that's ever stuck.

Everyone wants to stand so tall and at the same time question why I'm so willing to throw posture to the wind. Here is the answer. I'm more than aware that hearts without a backbone can not be broken. I'll forever be in a curled up position.

You have me wanting to be rebuilt like a structure from Frank Lloyd Wright's mind.... only without all of the water damage. Or maybe I'll settle for being painted over like a Monet.. only less blurry. Either way I have my own adjustments.

I want to be a constant collage. Lets grab a masterpiece and paste our favorite visions along side. Art as/is progress.... a constant motion... never finished. Galleries are places in which we hang quitters. I say keep them alive. Let us all add to them. Allow me to become your masterpiece. Develop me. Don't ever leave me hanging.

I want to give them all the rush of warm blood like you see in cartoon dogs right before their eyes pop out and all of the bells go off. Thinking of being apart has my head spinning like a car off of an icy guardrail. Show me what you are made of.