Mes mots dans ce rêve.

The likeness of snow-covered heaps on desert-searing nights
Of a scathing wind that cursed a name and brought it
By the crook of a deserted nest sunbathed by bare hands,
Seducing a whistle to the primeval waters that shoehorn rocks
Reflected with an awakening flutter within a cold room
With lip of ice and loitering hill sides by a pale tide,
blistering with mercy;

“Fear, Light, and Liberation” by PatBunny.

This is the power of self-esteem, which is stronger than the outside confidence you radiate. (Because confidence comes from other’s judgments about you, and self-esteem comes from your own judgement of yourself.) Your fear evolves around your own judgement of yourself, not others, as many mistakenly think.


The bare of winter, flicking,
Which looks as it were dismissed
In a post-death once again, gathering in
The almond blossoms and basils

Like forever meets the mist.

Flocked as ghosts, as words of humanity undressing in a torn darkening mist
And there is not a forever, we must surrender as the dazzle of the sky blurs in starlit
Blood fall days when the moon is stuccoed with white

A Red Hyacinth.

And I fall before the red branches, frail, wholly upon the utter stone that reared none for blood-sake,
And I kneel before the laughter and its fever, and its pride,
From before the evening of the distant fire among the blackened ocean, a beige fog,
Which lured me alone,
I called out to you