Ravielle

Thoughts slipping from your mind As you try hard but only find, Forgotten feelings of something unknown calling to your aching soul. But as you begin to fall asleep, You encounter a distant dream of Desires coursing through your veins, Love from one who you cannot name, Tender kisses from gentle lips. A tug at your heart, You want so much of this. Oh please never make me go back to that place. I hate it so much, I would do anything if I could just stay. But you know it's too late, You can't sleep forever. It will always be impossible for you two to be together. All the time spent, Will just make it harder When you finally

At the back of your mind, every moment you try and try. Until you finally realize you can't, you won't, it's impossible for you to remember what it is as long as it's so vivid in you. Give up and relax, don't allow it to torment you so. Let something else captivate you, and then you might see what you couldn't before.

Body poised, muscles tense legs extended, arms slightly bent face expressionless as eyes close head tilted every flaw exposed Tranquil, still completely composed as the song begins to weave... Sudden movements Flit through a pattern of rhythmic steps Vigorous bounds fast paced turns and twists. Ears roar, muscles burn chest heaves and sweat sheens Fall with grace to the floor as the music sounds no more.

tic-tic-tic-woosh Sprinkler: showered spectrum beaded on a waxed car; windows degraded before a peeved receipt, the wash. tic-tic-tic-woosh cla-clank-clang A Horse: horizontal prancing of luminescent hooves; blinding cacophony, harmonious fancy. cla-clank-clang squeak of Plastic, wet smeared taped to the chair; inculated pointless prancing of the sun filter breeze blocker. travel from Point A to Point B; a sloth made claustrophobic, worsened by absolute zero and 503. buzz-zip fickle fly; Rat of the sky. swish, twitch, bucktoothed sucker contaminating orange; dyanmic turned away from would be lazy wave. the vulture, ci

It was late on some ordinary no-named non-holiday. Maybe it was early morning. Or maybe the glass was half-full? Or half-empty? Everything is perspective, right? Well, Molly was drunk, or maybe at the edge. The ravine where tipsy and drunk meet. I wasn't. I'm the Saint, or some other religious figure. But, then again, didn't they drink wine? We were walking toward my car. My car, a brand-spanking- new Jetta, was actually a gift from my parents. I helped pay for it. A little, minuscule amount of money led to the perfect car. It was blue. Or at least that's what I called it. Of course it had some quirky Crayola Crayon name no one had ever h