Kayanya

I used to believe I was eloquent but only while the words were inside my head, tumbling about, grazing the skies of my inner world. Coming out they stumbled into a strange place, not knowing how to tread and thread; folding into strange shapes and knots not suitable for linearity. Written on a surface they line up well enough arranged in neat stacks and rows, escaping the confining dimension of time by flattening out all the parallel pockets of space-time. My hands are more eloquent, able to add the dimension of shapes and colours, speaking in crystal shards and strange crosshatched riddles, and pouring my strange mental vision into shimme

I used to believe I was eloquent but only while the words were inside my head, tumbling about, grazing the skies of my inner world. Coming out they stumbled into a strange place, not knowing how to tread and thread; folding into strange shapes and knots not suitable for linearity. Written on a surface they line up well enough arranged in neat stacks and rows, escaping the confining dimension of time by flattening out all the parallel pockets of space-time. My hands are more eloquent, able to add the dimension of shapes and colours, speaking in crystal shards and strange crosshatched riddles, and pouring my strange mental vision into shimme

Humming to the rain telling it a little welcome hmm hmm thunder, where art though been? I missed your booming company. Long time no see, dear lightning; missed your flashing smile. Clouds, though you hide my beloved stars, I embrace your nightly shade, knowing the air is still flowing, the world still turning for tonight.

Hair black as coffee and it unfurls in caffeine-driven curls, while from obsidian eyes cinnamon sparkles down her cheeks to meet shades of desert rose (and they match the energy of her mind and the temperament of a day of gale-force warning) Black thunder clouds of cynicism and sarcasm alternating with iridescent soap-bubble lightness of deep southern-blue skies, from time to time suddenly expelling a shooting star of childish-sweet glee, an expression of delight at the sight of something big-eyedly cute (and though these seem mismatched and incoherent they all are sugar-fuelled) Black tea in a white mug and donut-ringed fingers clicking aw