Tune of Pancakes

Soft petals are rosy and blushed with the embarrassment of being human, there is a rash of blemishes on the face of mortality, forgetting the grace found in water we have dried up and become a sand dune of deserted dreams.

Please don’t lecture me on the ways in which you suffer, there is no better gift than the gift of self awareness, but placing the urge to die on me is a gift I do not want.

Mixed media of words and paint and sound, shrieking out the joy and pain of each artist in one breath.

The sounds of aggression tumble above me, small shouts of tiny stomps. What anger barks within me, smiling as it shoots out my mouth.

Change the emotion into thought, the thought began with emotion, shouting doesn’t help anyone, especially if they are very small.

Sound is amplified in an echo, sound is amplified in an echo.

Soft petals, the rose has blushed, I am embarrassed to be human, in my own mortality I find the solution and suddenly I am left only with gratitude, the grace of falling flat on my face a gift for all to see.

Wrapping myself in recycled paper made of tall grass reeds, the tune of pancakes played for the gluten intolerant just like me, I document the choice and close the door.