i quite like plums (though apricots are pretty evil)...
Monday, October 5
i never knew that 'plum' was synonyms with 'treasure', it's familiar, but i don't think i knew it. weird that a stone fruit shares a name with something equivalent to a gem. it makes me remember a fragment of a story (of origin i can't remember) where the protagonist bites into a fruit and finds one of the missing jewels, how they were hidden in there i don't think they went into depths with. maybe the reason i think it's weird that i immediately think of the stone at the heart of the fruit rather than the flesh. heart, flesh, haha, the analogies never end with this one.
i quite like plums (though apricots are pretty evil)...
i quite like plums (though apricots are pretty evil)...
i untangled myself from my sheets and stumbled out of bed, my mind still in dreams. they managed to linger as i brushed my teeth, making the overwhelmingly disgusting mint a distant sensation as if a dream itself. my feet seemed to walk themselves about the house, pulling me with them in well worn paths of routine, as my eyes lazily observed the passing scenery, impartial to the whole affair. at some point i settled back in bed after making it only some time before, the wisps of lingering dreams much more like a consuming fog masking the ragged cliffs of my head space. i wasn't certain whether to go to sleep or staying awake would be the best option, to invoke a kind of lighthouse to shine out on my little row boat of consciousness completely at the mercy of the sea, which i thought at once were my thoughts. but i dared not to keep that thought, for thoughts can be dangerous things and i didn't want the murky water to become vicious as well. i bobbed in the water for a while, feet dangling over the side of my bed, when i became certain of something else in the fog. scrambling for a pen and paper, oars in hand, i began to search for it, and i felt it in my hands. clutching it in both hands the haze fell away and feeling great pride in my accomplishment of finding the creator of confusion i looked down at the piece of paper. but it seemed that the confusion was yet to remain on another medium, because all i had managed to write was your name...
i submerged myself in an analogy and i'm not sure if i made it out alive
i submerged myself in an analogy and i'm not sure if i made it out alive