please, don't let me be a dreamer, let me be a lifer. dreams are kisses we chase, born with a sweet-smell in the morning but soon to grow ancient (maybe it's too late, our dreams have gone to hide beneath the falling pink sky.) a life is the fight that's worth the sorrow. too many people are afraid of the sorrow. let's hold each other accountable. if you catch me dreaming but not doing i'll blush red like a tomato, not knowing how to face you after writing such a brutal blog entry.

september is on its way.

one day, i would like to wake up like a gust of wind, overflowing with mapel leaves and freshness. i would like to dare people to tattoo poems all over my skin (who has the courage to pronounce something permanent?) i would like to sing a song to someone as i wash their hair. i would like to fill a hollow space in my palm with sunflower seeds. i would like to fight for my life, we are trapped in a corner, there is no water and food left, and the sun is going down and "they only come out at night." i would like to dance with you on the thin edge between days and draw it out for as long as possible.

there i go dreaming again.