I take trips to absorb my mind with energies, auras, essences of places different from mine. And by places I mean different minds than those that I find my head frequents. Two states, one for weekdays, one for weekends... In my head. In my bed to hide from the perils, crab shell - no sea food. So, I see you. But hermit life sterilized creative vibes so I broke loose.
I choke, noose tied by familiarity, contempt for change, contempt for age, contempt is strange when your soul is meant to range from ordinary to extra in single bounds, and I've seen dreams die from single rounds.. I've seen the downs just as much as I've seen the clouds, I need the clouds as much as Adams need a spouse. I'm on the eve of now, tempted to let past linger because, familiar. On these flights to fantasy, but the fall is realer. Dream is a drug and America's full of dealers.
I spend my time how I choose to, when Father divi'd up the gifts he knew I would use two.
Kimolee Eryn is an artist and writer who believes in creating for a purpose beyond the purpose of creating. She believes that a life should be lived not just to sustain itself but to cultivate peace, love and growth in all adjacent beings and hopes to exemplify that in all she does.