It was one of those moments when you feel you have never heard the word before, and you cannot believe it means what it means, and you think how did this word come to mean that? It seemed like a bell or something, shining and pure, disturbed, disturbed, disturbed, I could hear it pealing with its true meaning, and I said, as if I had just realized it, "I am disturbed."
-Cameron, Peter
The tides are coming in and coming up, rapidly for us.
...
...
A tease of rays and of intimacies and of breathless full demands undeniably distant and remaining the count hashed by the urgency of my very heels that I cannot be grounded. I cannot be taken. And I cannot be tamed. Like the beast in the dark that only peeks through small to the light. Maintaining a quiet moan and quiet demand, and the shrill cry of breathing depths within the constructed reaches of abandoning the pack. Like the beast.
A ray of playful sounds and of reactant nerves and of careless intents of keeping my heels off the ground, with my chin searching the highs of the heat and the seeping red devoted to lend me a brand of deserving arms. Acquainted like an old, childhood friend with the face that conveys solely of smile-worthy recollections. The way it had been when embraced the innocence of being undisturbed and untouched by adversities of all our collected drudges. Like the nearing dusk of a summer sky. Darkening gray and warming orange and a scattering of a well-spent day calms down at a central park. Shoulder-to-shoulder, limb by limb.
...
These thoughts alone ascend up my spine, nudging red and raw, and to my skull. Like the inhale of the most sensational, prime breaths you will ever take before the water flows over pass your nose, and the last you see is the sight of light blurring you right into darkness.
A ray of playful sounds and of reactant nerves and of careless intents of keeping my heels off the ground, with my chin searching the highs of the heat and the seeping red devoted to lend me a brand of deserving arms. Acquainted like an old, childhood friend with the face that conveys solely of smile-worthy recollections. The way it had been when embraced the innocence of being undisturbed and untouched by adversities of all our collected drudges. Like the nearing dusk of a summer sky. Darkening gray and warming orange and a scattering of a well-spent day calms down at a central park. Shoulder-to-shoulder, limb by limb.
...
These thoughts alone ascend up my spine, nudging red and raw, and to my skull. Like the inhale of the most sensational, prime breaths you will ever take before the water flows over pass your nose, and the last you see is the sight of light blurring you right into darkness.
