i see two golden statues during my commute (!!) one of virgin mary, one of cupid. both get blown lil kiss-prayers. roads are alters. i swerve around squirrels and think about squirrel talk. squirrelies! what is the hot tree gos? who is so0o0oo0o nutty right now? there is a church with *perfect* stained glass. decadent red rectangles like jello, fed to me by god. another church with a hollywood sign that reads "CHURCH SHOPPING??" honey, yes. take my money. enrapture me. there is a lil hilltop graveyard, where i assign heavenly plots to roadkill, soft bloody bellies tucked back into earth. there is a road called 77. a man called pap. a chicken steak special on wednesdays. a stretch of road i call "sob stretch" bc it's where i cry. a gas pump, giving me that good good diesel drip. a turn so sharp, my knuckles ache. on my way to work i'm past and pre angel number hours so i wait for the 77 road sign. and on my way home, i've got 5:55. 7 + 7 + 5 + 5 + 5 = 29 2 + 9 = 11 1 + 1 = two golden statues <33
pome // perfume pairing: this poem pairs well with Guardian
Thanks for reading, babes. <3 Happy July! Back soon with more writings.
commute
Love this!! ❤️❤️
I love the idea of the road itself being an altar or sacred space!