A Journey Called Face.

Run your fingers through you hair.

Feel the roots of your skull that reach out to the vallies of your fingertips. Drift into the swirls of auburn and pull forward the strings tied to fragile hearts.

Place your cold hand to your neck and wrap the branches around the trunk. Venture the muscles of the core and journey to the cliff of your chin. Find your way to your boney jaw and collapse the prey of chemicals. Graze into the cheeks of your moments passed and linger upon the lips as sweet as mango’s bliss. Press to these lips that flood the gates and bring your nail to the corner of such lines. Twist up to the mountain nose and surround the boulders of your nostrils. These caves that consume the mist, block them for these seconds. Breathe in your touch. Thumbnails gentle to your eyelids. The orbs of crescent leaves. Rome the prying spears of your lashes and set the sights to twin hills. Running to your marble forehead, here may lay your wary corpse. Let sit for these years to sink. Lift up and enter the amazon. Forests laid within your locks. Rake through the silk and pillars flow. Move upon the threads of you.

When you drink the essence of the earth does it fill your core or bath your bones?

Pray to the white fox, this hair may grow thick.

~ by lucasolscamp on June 11, 2011.