Mint On A Pillow

Christopher Rivas knows how lucky and blessed he is to be doing what he loves- sharing his He(Art) daily...
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the Biology of being seen

Sit and be still
I got tugging to do

Foolish boy,
Our tears never made it right
Brother don’t cry no more
Stay out of your mind
The Past is set in stone
Should you seek to find the truth
To see
I’ll be by your side
Just ask
Speak up
Before you go be a sown up story teller
Wake up
Before you go having nightmares

Silly boy
Let’s make it right

let me tell you about the thousand ways our love assassinates everything not associated with the finer emotions of the heart.
It gives faculty to reason, strengthens the imagination, ensures self-reliance, injects Enthusiasm and initiative, certainty of purpose, encourages charm and control, Masters persistence and willpower, turns us into everything, and invite success in every conceivable form imaginable.
Wakes us up to the obvious truth that we live in a world of overabundance of everything the heart could desire. With nothing standing between us and our desires. Nothing between us and knowing. Nothing

We don’t need help

never did.

I don’t need you to help me

I’d like you to hold me
as I will you
hands
anywhere in lovers grasp
while
we better ourselves

Imagine a body of water filled with so many pink leaves you think you an float

Imagine a neck being nibbled, perfectly tugged by lips and bite

Imagine a book shelf, filled head to toe
(always a stool near by)
and has every wor(L)d you’ll ever need

Imagine lovers on an island
in a womb
wrapped up inside

Imagine us and our bed

Think on things we left behind
and imagine whats to come!

Open back
open heart
open soul

We are the difference between
getting and deserving

We had wings before they were cool

I used to get lonely about 3 o’clock in the morning. so I take my bike out and ride the streets to see if anybody was still out, anybody drunk enough high enough, innocent enough to want to take me home. The street from my haven, I don’t like bars to get to talking bars, and I was asking too much for me And I’m not yet available to the computer scene, I like to think I live a simple life. Desperate but simple.
I wasn’t stalking love. I was stalking sex, something dark to fill the emptiness… And by accident I found you. I’m lucky. I was dying of something and you saved me from the rest of it.

It’s the dreams that make us lonely

Dreams only dreamt by one
Inherently, according to my head, they are are mine, no one else’s and yet, I have to make them ours
I have to
I have to crack open my skull so that no dream is not yours, is not one shared, poked at, seeped in by the both of us
I have to
I must give you my thoughts, my mind, my dreams
I must

The day the lord created hope must’ve been the day he began working on you

he worked hard
hard and long
you were special

just as a flower does not choose it’s color, so are we not responsible for what we have come to be

Were you ever just lilacs scent?
Did you ever let your heart be an altar?
Were you ever the loudest in the room?
Did you ever let your pain lay open?
Spread it out across your face?
Let it be the dirge it is?

There is a storm between your ribs. You are a box with fragile written on it, and so many people have not handled you with care.

You write a hymn for them now, for your soul is one lament away from the truth
that is forever expanding good
love unconditional
beauty within

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