uktribalkid

My storyteller once told me that his Maker came to him in three days of throbbing colours and garish music and lay his heart out on two lists of pros and cons and showed him the way forward.  We were in a tent and sleep would not come so I watched his stories in full colour like projections onto the inside of our home through the gaps in my eyelashes.  This came to my head as I writhed in clammy sheets at four in the morning days after looking for illuminations in his ceiling and wondering if I was a little further down that list pencilled in, nine thousand days before my heart pulsed first.  It came to me for a reason again but I was too bus

We danced and spun, arms in the air and wrapped around each other tight with pupils in irises seeing further into each other than they could anywhere else in the flashing lights and haze of the dancefloor.  My smile stretched up to my hairline at the adjectives falling over themselves to get off of your tongue and reach the air and my ears and my ears grinned too for you.  You told me lots of things I didn't want to believe but showed my teeth to anyway because that's the kind of girl I am.  Compliments sit on me like a skirt woven of bad memories and I tried to warn you but you never spared a second to listen to more than what my pretty lips

I want to feel as right to you as the open widewide ocean to me when I first saw it with my hand in yours and felt it cold and nippy around my ankles or tangy at the back of my mouth and I got icecream in my hair and salt up my nose but it didn't matter because it all felt oddly familiar, a bit like deja vu it just felt like it's where I belonged and I want you to feel it too.  Like I did when we spent days in the salty foam and I didn't need anything but the broad stretch of blue, and you.  The broad stretch of blue, and you; my home and I want to be your home too.