lanis mom told me when negative thoughts enter my head picture a stop sign. stop them at the root of the problem.
every thought about you i decided deserves a yield sign. a bright yellow. grabbing my attention but allowing me to cautiously enter. enter into the whirlwind of thoughts that send me dancing into a dream. yield to fantasy, stay true to your reality.
i have loved every bit of you and i meshed in some transient movement that even distance couldn’t break. i have even danced in the space between our bodies and moved mountains, grabbed at the roots of forests, and pushed apart the clutter of cities just to admire the vastness of it all, knowing it couldn’t even help me escape how tied and knotted up i am with you. i have missed the way your voice whispers into the darkness, curling up in smoke and shaping itself into curves around my frame, the way your laugh sounds as natural and transparent as water, even your silence shattering through the noise, hushing and muting our worlds (and only the waves reply) and i have mostly missed the internal pulp of my organs frantically and dizzily moving to an unknown rhythm that reminds me of jazz improvisation, the atonality and riding on waves of sound that paint something primitive, abstract, magical.
“thats what life becomes when you doing you,
welcome to Hollywood, dont let this town ruin you,
and if you pillow talking with the women that are screwin you,
just know that she gone tell another nigga when she through with you”—aubrey (via adrianforissue986)