Love Your City

One foot in front of the other. A Queen steps through her jungle, head held high, a distant strength in her eyes. A machete dangles dreamily from her hand as life erupts around her. The foundation cracks, stone flows, worlds live and die. Geological forces shape her life, but she is no subject, moving only when ready. One more decisive step, taken with the wordless grief of a general who knows her soldiers will die.

She slashes every vine, leaf, and flower in her path with the numb distraction of a school shooter. Her position marked by the stacatto clatter of an automatic weapon. She swings and sprays with hesitant finality, because it’s all that makes sense. Carving a bleeding path through a broken heart, because inside the crack, it’s all that makes sense. Her wake hangs defeated, motionless, waiting for a warm breeze. Silently asking, ‘Why?’ and listening for answers on the wind.

Lost in one direction. Her motions are vacant, each swing decaying as it is born. Her eyes betray the pain. Cutting herself out is exhausting because she can’t kill what she has left behind. But if she walks far enough through her jungle, she will end up where she’s going. It’s in her blood to climb, one foot in front of the other, the steps to her throne.

- DP

my girl amber and i went for a hike walk on seymour the other day, and it. was. stunning.
i can’t wait for the season to be upon us.

fuck you crackheads!!!

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

- W.B. Yeats