A Boy With Roses

How To Make Eye Contact

Today I bought myself flowers and went to the forest to escape colourfast reality. How magical it is, learning how to be. Drowning in birdsongs and soft pinks, the rain on my skin. Forgetting the pain for a moment, before I wake up and do it all over again. I lose myself in music, in ribbons of idyllic landscapes. Remembering how the car lights glinted and stretched across glossy wet streets, remembering how to talk to people, how to make eye contact. I think I am liking today, the many ways I can close my eyes and drift off into fantasies, making up worlds in my head just so I feel content. There is nothing more alluring than being free, breaking like a crystalware catastrophe. The feeling of being alive burning deep in my veins. Death is my muse, she speaks to me like a mother.