Lying Leaves.

The cigarette smoke pours from my pores and raises my awareness to the sickness we all lie in as its sinewy streams of our abandoned breath embrace the dishonesty on the tip of our tongues. Lying where we lie. As the smog surrounds us, filtering the bigger picture beyond the veil – the truth … that pours from our hearts is what we feel vibrationally, soulfully … wholly. When it permeates us through the depths of our being. Where the soot has no access to a knife to the lung or room to play so wildly with our hair. We are pure. We are clean. We are a fortress and We are fortresses. Our souls reign free, enveloping our ashes and our cinders like the purification and electrocution of air in the acrobatics of freshly fallen leaves on a crisp fall day, gusting in wind – upward, rising. Reminding us that all the world is but a stage and we were meant to be on it. As a swirling second-hand wind of a slippery and soulful-trodden serpent – united in bursts of insatiable color – just waiting to be seen.

xoxo, lizzy.

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