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May 18th, 2011

When You Look Up

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Imagine once living in your favorite place and then imagine not being able to live there anymore. Imagine that you once made this favorite place of yours any color and any way you wanted. Now, imagine your new pleasure is that two of your four walls are a different color than the average. Now, imagine not being able to hear what you wanted whenever you wanted. Imagine that silence inside yourself. Now, imagine that you are not able to just get up and leave, here, to do something you may want to. Imagine your forever promise circle having to be cut off with tools. Imagine that others come find you in the night, wake you standing above your bed, in that silence you are stuck in, telling you, fighting you to hear them tell you what they want, what they believe, how they want to feel better, because they no longer even know where they are or who you are, or, they are. They just see you there. Do they know you are the source of my father?

My grandsource, what colors do you see when you look up at your two Sun’s?

The flowers someone gave you this day look nothing like what grows just outside.

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The Alamo That Made Jonathan