just a thought

I want to drive toward the sunrise, chase after the sunset. Unfortunately, I'm on a North/South destination, path. It's inevitable, everything I want, I do the exact opposite. I am my own inverse. I want to see that girl in my dreams, wandering after magical carnivals, who naps in the shower, letting warmth wash over me while I'm bouncing off of stars.

I'm caught by rabbits. I'd rather be coated in red and green, rhinestones, glitter, shimmer. I'm going to find a break in my bubble universe, just to see if I can sneak through. My parallel personality likely has a better forecast; her roots extend in just a bit further.

My butterfly girl is occupied, getting shit-faced and dancing on tables. Laughing when mistakes could be deadly, when the soldiers keep marching on. She is following cats through pillows, wearing red on her ears, considering without envy when the sun shines over her shoulder. She is carefully planting her allies by her side, she is reaching out to a friend who is no longer there, and she lets it go. She watches a mild form of cannibalism and she learns why this can intrigue. She sees fog in the distance and she swims through. She trusts the woman in the doorway, the one she's never met until she appeared, and hears her calling her name. Golden fish, somewhere lie. She loves her little hotel world. She reads the words she writes and she believes them, because they are their own beings and they stand on their own, without her. She lets them go. She isn't worried about love because she loves, fiercely and passionately. She loves enough to not need it in return; it radiates about her. She prances through halos. She is Creator, she is Beauty, she is Love. She just lets go.

Sometimes I can see this iridescent bubble of my world float past me. It is perfect and seamless and it conforms to wherever the breeze takes it. My bubble world is not resilient, however, and it breaks into water droplets, smiling at me as she goes.