I'm Not Sleepy and there is No Place I'm Going to.

(Painted the picture with my pinky finger. Messed up his face a tad)

Barefoot.
Rolled up trousers.
Light-headed.
A tune ‘pon his lips.

She sat watching from behind a tree.
Green grass between her toes.
It was one of those days.
“A still-life watercolour.”
“Like something out of a Robert Frost poem.”
Gurgling water and rustling bamboos.
And him. In a billowy purple tee and a guitar in his hand.
And she sat there watching from behind a tree.
As hues of yellow and green spiraled down.
A smile ‘pon her lips.

“Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship,

My senses have been stripped,

My hands can't feel to grip,

My toes too numb to step,

wait only for my boot heels

To be wanderin'.

I'm ready to go anywhere,

I'm ready for to fade

Into my own parade,

cast your dancing spell my way,

I promise to go under it.”

-Bob Dylan.

__________________________________________________________________

I’ve been living in a dream.
And it takes people to say things twice before I reply.
Pillows.hair blowing across my face.
The feel of wet tar under my feet.
My bed’s not made. Strewn papers. Unfinished books.