A side eye or a momentary caught in the act, perfect timings or a slight of hand. These parallels much like analog telephone lines misfire and misconnect. Hearts emitting radio waves of a language felt by many but heard by few. I cant believe anything you say but in this moment our eyes can only see a waned moon. I navigate through these gusty winds and flashing lights hoping to sail right into you. Ive learned to read people all too well, spend most of my time spectating but please dont get me wrong, Its my innocent curiosities of life that draw me to strangers, a thin gleaming thread of light, I’m a page master, a witch in the night, I dont mind a bit of a fright. Dangerous as it may be to come alive, reveal yourself, thawing mercilessly at the warmth of a well crafted goodbye.
(I dont do second paragraphs but this is genuinely needed)
A sweetness in words is a silver coin, heads its a dance one you do alone to satisfy the tide inside yourself wanting to be heard like birds in the evening sun but tails and theres thin ice to this crossing it is a bridge swaying in the distance and you happen to be at two places at once. If I were part of a literary moment id like to be the first one in the audience springing up to give a standing ovation. Thats what attraction feels like to me, a detailed case study of someones cabinet of curiosity. A display of things unseen, private, unique and unkept by many. I know the cost of this “Indiana Nayha Jay Johns” exploration is high and costly but boot strapping and trouble shooting have been a reliable partner for me. Alas, time is not a friend but then again never pay attention to someone who cant keep up with you. Ive recycled through moments rearranging tonality and compassed trails on end to find that a crossing can be between two identical trees or a two way busy street, between grand bazaars labyrinth of shops or two people in a small town.
