Ignorantly, I claim this is why I do not allow myself L'air du Paradis.
L’air du Paradis
Ruminations of a Working Man: Wild I Am
Some songs get you going and remind you who you are. This morning as I drove to work, this song came on and I listened especially intently to the words.
Thin
Pluck a thin string into a melancholic tune, watch it grow in sonic synesthesia
This Incorrigible Springtime, Pt. II
...and yet... There is something to behold. Something you least anticipated. Something... forgetive
Here I am
God paints the sunrise with the softest blues//And loverly, effervescent yellows//If I were a bird, it'd be my featherbed//And if I were a melody, it'd be my complement
Music Box Me
Fin'lly stopped, I silently rest//Gears red hot from the grind//All pulled apart, cleaned, oiled, and dressed//Refurbished by design
Ross, pt. II
The sway and croon of the evening's orchestration became a deafening cascade of the purest emotion, as can be expected from any young boy who has not yet learned to know any better or any worse. Innocence crystalline as a sunset on the sea's horizon glistened and glanced off of the greenhouse's glass walls, and... Continue Reading →
Scraps of Peace
A thousand lives pass by thirty-thousand and six feet below and yet I think it's me wasting away because for every mile passed, I'm less than a minute older and yet a lifetime closer to the places imagination takes us. In this moment of muted melody I come by scraps of peace and,... Continue Reading →
Little Miss Hobbs, Pt. XIV: More Than A Melody
Most children enjoy being tended to by their mothers when they are under the weather, but Little Miss Hobbs needed only the weather to tend to her, and mayhaps a bottle of bubbles to blow indoors without a mother to scold her about the scum it'd surely leave on the windows and floor.
December Rose 