Lana Del Rey.
Where your voice takes me is somewhere in a field of sunflowers running barefoot and blindly. The air is soft and my mind is in the heavens spinning in figure 8’s. I’m dying in pleasure. Every fiber of my skin tingles with thousands of nerve-endings working overtime. Buzzing, waving, swimming around in my veins are bursts of colors and radiations that only my eyes and his can see. We are lost in this eternal field, abandoned only to the bliss of this exact moment. Each second is ten-thousand rainstorms sizzling hot pavement with puddles cooling the skin of our feet. He brushes my shoulder with his finger and as soon as he leaves I go into withdrawl.
How can I live here forever I wonder. I don’t want to go but the moon is knocking on sky’s door asking to be let in, if only for a peak. I love the moon too! but I want this day to mark the calendar every year. So I keep running with the air as my sleigh into the forbidden saga that has become my effervescent mind.
I once was called out for my philosophical questions. These thoughts were too outlandish for him. I liked him too much to tell him that that one sentence forever contaminated the secret garden I had been tending to so he didn’t have to leave. But my daydreams were starting to corrupt my reality and I had to cease all measures before they escaped forever. So as he questioned my overextended thoughts I swallowed it as a blessing for still loving him through and through.