A collection of the abridged rear-view mirrors and four-leaf clovers in life as I experience falling-up into the future. Stay weird. --Darrian
I never received a set list before so that was cool.
the snowfall sounds like rain crashing on the tree leaves
it’s supposed to be spring
and I’m supposed to be across the country
where moss trees grow and where people know how to live
this is too much trauma for two years time—the dreams tell me that
but God I don’t want the dreams to leave
I want my heart to find its roots again
maybe somewhere near the mud and magnolias,
familiar soil that I mistakenly left for a greener grass
that never grows from the brown thick dust settled under wandering feet,
caking these foot soles with abysmal filth and no traction
but my heart wants its roots, my heart wants its roots
to get anchored by a soil that promises that I can’t lose it again
I want to breathe in the air that smells like rainwater on a Sunday morning
and find the road Home even though I no longer know what Home is
and why let life taunt me with its hand-me-down horrors
when I know that I deserve peace
Glad to have spent Saturday with some TWLOHA friends doing some really great work for mental health.
Experience shows that I don’t take the best photography at concerts because I’m too busy enjoying the show. It was definitely a night to remember.