My life is a print machine
And you are the type.
The world is my type
And I produce papers and pages
Of emotions, of thoughts,
Pages and pages of life.
I’m the book I’m reading
And I inhale in the words and
The sunshine poured on the page
I breathe in air and jasmine
And the trees grow in my head
Their branches extending to my fingers
And leaves are falling like words
From my fingers, through my pen
And I feel haemophilic,
I’m bleeding ink and soul.
My heart beats in my ears
A tune that changes in its rhythm
Conforming to the mood I'm enveloped in
And I just want to run and run
Until I reach a cliff, then jump and fly,
Into your dark, ardent pupils
And I’m sinking into their darkness.
I open my eyes and saw beauty,
Laughter and curves of smiles,
And I’m comforted by the strength
Standing behind fragility that
Exists everywhere.
I want capture them all in my heart
As I listen and understand,
I feel I'm everything all at once,
My love, a fountain of ink, erupting
And as I inspire, I live.
Familiar? It's my old profile description...
