Autumn Is A State Of Being

Autumn is a state of being

It is the sigh of the wind,

The smell of fresh, decaying things

Soaked in tears or

Forced down closer to Sheol

By our feet.

It is a raindrop

Falling so perfectly on your upturned face,

It slides down your cheek

Like a tear.

Autumn is laying in bed at night, lost.

It is crying out with your whole spirit

For warmth

For adventure

For something you can just barely touch.

Just out of sight.

Autumn is the slow decline of all things

The knowledge that we are getting older

And we haven't done

As much as we wanted to.

That our younger selves would be

Enamored

Or maybe

Disappointed.

Autumn is the slow decline of all things

So that something new

Can be born out of it.

Or something old can be born again--

A Phoenix red as falling leaves.

Autumn is a state of being.

The funny people in my head are screaming to be let out again yet I have no words to free them.

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Thinking about the Oculate Being

The greatest lie I've ever been told is "you will get 30 minutes of uninterrupted listening after this short break."

I've been hiding from the clown on the mobile app. Scared to check and see if he's still lurking.

Call me Bob the Builder because I can fix him