Writing sneers up at her from white paper. Irritated for getting lost in the complexity of thoughts. An unidentified self poured from her body. Another night. Inside she glowed darker than the black heavens.
Time sticking by her side. Wondering of past- ticking and fast-warding to the highs and lows of the blurred faces- and future. Friends will only be drinking glasses, lovely stiff hugs, and piercing knowing eyes. Everybody. Family surrounding and embracing, twirling and swaying around her heart.
Clocks. Emotions swirling in seconds and out with thoughts. Seeing many countless faces and moving hands. So very tired of bounded seconds but has never before denied her nature, as she cried inside lustful ticks and tocks.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Sarcasm
Is this really her life? What a pathetic life if it is. Today's mundane vocabulary seems awfully familiar. Painfully so.
Forgetting the world in her room. The four walls have a depressing comfort. Its not to keep them away but to lock herself in.
So very pathetic indeed.
She smiles at how wonderful it feels.
55 flash friday
Forgetting the world in her room. The four walls have a depressing comfort. Its not to keep them away but to lock herself in.
So very pathetic indeed.
She smiles at how wonderful it feels.
55 flash friday
The door knob broke.
Cracked skeletons broke out of the closet. She just gaze impassively at each lovely bone as they wiped her tear. The memories were vivid in the lines. Impossible for her to feel the nostalgia that requires more than a few moments of happiness. Unless she is dreaming again.
There is a definition of a word opposite of nostalgic that defines her life.
She wonders about the face she saw in her dreams. She misses that person, like a mistresses missing her wife. Tried to be subtle but the interpret push and cold shoulder was too obvious. Change has always been her best friend, what makes this visit so special. It's not.
Lying on the bed looking at the broken hinges of the closet door she smiles. Some bones were definitely more lovelier than others. But they will always be connected to the same old broken skeletons in the end.
There is a definition of a word opposite of nostalgic that defines her life.
She wonders about the face she saw in her dreams. She misses that person, like a mistresses missing her wife. Tried to be subtle but the interpret push and cold shoulder was too obvious. Change has always been her best friend, what makes this visit so special. It's not.
Lying on the bed looking at the broken hinges of the closet door she smiles. Some bones were definitely more lovelier than others. But they will always be connected to the same old broken skeletons in the end.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
One night stand, a cold fuck
Summer days missed her and winter stay pissing her off. Never had she longed so strongly for something so insigificant as the warmth of a 2 o'clock afternoon. She spat in Frost's white face and sneered a pretty look at Jack as he applaude and pats himself on the back.
Misery was his favortie game. And he was winning.
This season raped her. The calm of the still snow was not paralle to her inner turmoil and conflict. She was cold inside her skin. Biting wind penatrating without at least a kiss goodbye or a tip on the night stand. It ate away at her energy and made her sleep in anger, not in peace.
Misery was his favortie game. And he was winning.
This season raped her. The calm of the still snow was not paralle to her inner turmoil and conflict. She was cold inside her skin. Biting wind penatrating without at least a kiss goodbye or a tip on the night stand. It ate away at her energy and made her sleep in anger, not in peace.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Proven until...
Her hands felt broken, each bone shattered into glass dust. The thought of it blowing around in the sky of distraction, covering her body, seeping into her core and transforming her heart in to reddish rust. Made her tremble.
She wrote and plastered guilt all over white walls to stare at how pretty the letters looked. The temptation to carve it into her soul was strong. She wondered how it would feel to be attached to her persons. She is still so young but her body shook with anticipation at the idea of such an unknown presence coating her.
Devouring her...And making her long to die.
Then again just like feeling guilty that too is nothing more than a passing thought flying around in the sky of distraction. To her broken hand.
She wrote and plastered guilt all over white walls to stare at how pretty the letters looked. The temptation to carve it into her soul was strong. She wondered how it would feel to be attached to her persons. She is still so young but her body shook with anticipation at the idea of such an unknown presence coating her.
Devouring her...And making her long to die.
Then again just like feeling guilty that too is nothing more than a passing thought flying around in the sky of distraction. To her broken hand.
Monday, February 22, 2010
tired thoughts tastes better with sleep
The only abnormality anyone could every have is the inability to love. Today she woke and forgot who she was and longed to be Anais Nin. Her hair was soaked from a wet dream of her prose.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Recuerde
Todays was a day of memory. With a moving body her thoughts echos around in silence. Its not possible for her to feel what was felt yesterday. To feel today what one felt yesterday isnt too feel- its to remember. And what does she remembers? It seems like forever and a lifetime ago.
Rambling rain, breathing so shallow she could walk on top and keep walking. It weaving between her toes, ticking. The intensity of sensations have always been more intense than her awareness of them. So she is surprise, each time she sees her face.
What does she remember?
Eyes that point down at the end, for eternity looking so beautifully sad. Times a blur. Kissing over and over. Chuckling. She calls her adorable when its the other way around. A conscience forgetting to balance. Todays was a day of memory. With a moving body her thoughts echos around in silence.
Rambling rain, breathing so shallow she could walk on top and keep walking. It weaving between her toes, ticking. The intensity of sensations have always been more intense than her awareness of them. So she is surprise, each time she sees her face.
What does she remember?
Eyes that point down at the end, for eternity looking so beautifully sad. Times a blur. Kissing over and over. Chuckling. She calls her adorable when its the other way around. A conscience forgetting to balance. Todays was a day of memory. With a moving body her thoughts echos around in silence.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Understanding/All her love
She is restless. The word impossible buzz like a cigarette high in her head. She didnt want to sleep anymore. So tired of being tired. But no more is she torn.
Knowing what she wanted. And oh, God did she want it badly. Spending half the day wishing her and she could just be. Vaguely. Remembers other lips whispering, patience, runaway, stay and fight, and flee.
With this she is not satisfied. She didnt want to be friends. Because her arms, they keep away the lonely.
Such a painful situation. But she understood this is how it have to be. Dont want to cause any complications and she'd walk away but is in too deep. So frustrated. In others she knows her face would be the only thing she would want to see. Because in her heart she wants her and only her so desperately.
It would take some time, then it could be them alone. And the thought of her wanting, desiring, seeing only me. Is the thing that keeps her hope going strong.
Donell Jones
Knowing what she wanted. And oh, God did she want it badly. Spending half the day wishing her and she could just be. Vaguely. Remembers other lips whispering, patience, runaway, stay and fight, and flee.
With this she is not satisfied. She didnt want to be friends. Because her arms, they keep away the lonely.
Such a painful situation. But she understood this is how it have to be. Dont want to cause any complications and she'd walk away but is in too deep. So frustrated. In others she knows her face would be the only thing she would want to see. Because in her heart she wants her and only her so desperately.
It would take some time, then it could be them alone. And the thought of her wanting, desiring, seeing only me. Is the thing that keeps her hope going strong.
Donell Jones
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
The father of Gods child
His words are FILTHY and UNCLEAN! With no way out, she pushes hard against the restraints, the complaints and the shot glass. Remembering him taking her down to where the sinners drown. In dirty holy water and dared to wash my feet.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Good feelings
I am dancing with you. Laugter breeches her ears and it is contagious. Spreading her wings wide and soring over all disasters.
She is flying.
She is flying.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Silliness in Denial
If there is one thing I wish for you to see before you close your eyes tonight. Its the shape of my lips I dream are being pressed against yours as I fall from bliss.
Regrets and Night Sweats
Smiling from the back of her mouth. Stillness runs through her heart a drastic change.
She was sick. A body's reaction a friend called it but her feverish mind was beyond caring. Grateful for their head on her pillow and arm around her waist. Holding on for dear death, as her body trembles more than usual.
She was sick. A body's reaction a friend called it but her feverish mind was beyond caring. Grateful for their head on her pillow and arm around her waist. Holding on for dear death, as her body trembles more than usual.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Now that is what you call entertainment.
Puppet strings were tied in a pretty bow. A gift for the gullible fool. Consistency changes like her present, more so than it definitely should. Tugging hard, there would be no slack, so the matter is already settled. The show was fun, but she is still only a human being. The ushers wants us to leave its closing time. Things will only continue for so long before the fool on the strings, finds scissors.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Red ink,
From the maddness of passing hours looking in between blank pages. She must wait alittle more, but that is okay. The paper cuts were amusing to sooth the rages. Now their story has begun. Beautiful girl. With ink in her heart, ready to fill the blank sheets. From the hands of the witching hour she hang and sleep.
Nothing to say
The bite was hard. She allowed herself to be bitten though. Couldn't help the slow spread of such potency. A reason why anger has thicken dangerously, so much more than before. Surrounding her, engulfing and pulling downward.
Angry.
Questions too scared to ask, silence will forever be heavy in her mouth. This cant be life, this cant be right, this cant me, there has got to be more. Feeling so unmask.
This shouldnt have hurt so much, it just shouldnt have...
Stupidity makes her world go round. Disappointment adds a nice touch.
Angry.
Questions too scared to ask, silence will forever be heavy in her mouth. This cant be life, this cant be right, this cant me, there has got to be more. Feeling so unmask.
This shouldnt have hurt so much, it just shouldnt have...
Stupidity makes her world go round. Disappointment adds a nice touch.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Rushed Mornings
Forgetfulness will be the triumph his enemies will have over him. Stumbling against the wind instead of letting it lift him away. Remembrance is of the hardest of all things to do when one wants to forget.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Today
The emotional clarity in her soul brightens the cloudy world of her intellect. Raining on her embracing words and trails. Spending her time in distracting perfection as she stroll down intertwining roads.
Soothing aches shiver. Return with a gentle smile but never failing to recall the blisters of another day beyond gray the sky.
Soothing aches shiver. Return with a gentle smile but never failing to recall the blisters of another day beyond gray the sky.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
No swimming allowed
The gravity gave way and she floated up from the sea. Feeling the salt clinging to her lungs and seep from her eyes. Weeping willow cries a little louder as she smiles. Choking on the air and throwing up her writing all over heaven's floor.
Watching the water rise and rise and rise as she drifts higher and higher and higher. She waits around for the no swimming allowed sign to appear so she can float back down.
Watching the water rise and rise and rise as she drifts higher and higher and higher. She waits around for the no swimming allowed sign to appear so she can float back down.
Heaven Cloud
I see you now, the flutter of a butterfly.
I chase you, To feel, to lose,
You are in my sight, Open the gate, I follow through and into you. My longing for you, My belonging to you. For what magic is this that consumes me so…
Dizzy and daydreamt, the fire that is you. Your scorching presence lingers and writhes, burning and engulfing the emptiness I feel.
Controlling and out of control, With fiery hands you grasp. Cradling me in your embrace of flame. My eternal sun.
The bringer of light into my life.
The heaven and hell that is love.
Maurice Cross
I chase you, To feel, to lose,
You are in my sight, Open the gate, I follow through and into you. My longing for you, My belonging to you. For what magic is this that consumes me so…
Dizzy and daydreamt, the fire that is you. Your scorching presence lingers and writhes, burning and engulfing the emptiness I feel.
Controlling and out of control, With fiery hands you grasp. Cradling me in your embrace of flame. My eternal sun.
The bringer of light into my life.
The heaven and hell that is love.
Maurice Cross
Loveless, eternal
With blackened wings, you soar into my bein. Piercing my very soul, Left empty and bleeding. What is this haunting you bring upon me? Swift and sure as darkness wreaks.
Becoming hollow and devoid. Thrust evil upon me no more, Sweet and foul daemon, Leave of what remains of me.
Silence is not becoming. Though absent you have become in presence, forever tainted I will be. Impossible is victory for what will can defeat this...
Loveless, eternal.
Maurice Cross
Becoming hollow and devoid. Thrust evil upon me no more, Sweet and foul daemon, Leave of what remains of me.
Silence is not becoming. Though absent you have become in presence, forever tainted I will be. Impossible is victory for what will can defeat this...
Loveless, eternal.
Maurice Cross
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Return
RETURN
O, my darling rose,
put on your milk-white gown. I want
you to come back quickly. For my
desire feeds on
your beauty. Each time I see your gown
I am made weak and happy. I too
blamed the Cyprian. Now I pray
she will not seek
revenge, but may she soon allow
you, to come to me
again: you whom of all women
I most desire.
Sappho
O, my darling rose,
put on your milk-white gown. I want
you to come back quickly. For my
desire feeds on
your beauty. Each time I see your gown
I am made weak and happy. I too
blamed the Cyprian. Now I pray
she will not seek
revenge, but may she soon allow
you, to come to me
again: you whom of all women
I most desire.
Sappho
Monday, February 8, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Cut the ribbons
Breath. Under my skin. Through out our bodies, against one another. Smile. Beautiful. Warm. Laughing at the feeling again. Listening to the world with cotton ears except her affectionate hums. Trying to control herself but is so torn.
Quivering breath drys out her mouth. Exhale, inhale then hold.
But she dont care. All she has to do is remember to breath and not to run. To breath and not to run.
Quivering breath drys out her mouth. Exhale, inhale then hold.
But she dont care. All she has to do is remember to breath and not to run. To breath and not to run.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Bewitched body and soul
She is the dream in the world that comes crashing around. Blindly. closing her eyes to see. Her name whispered against the knife called lust as it fills the body with life and trust.
Each thrust, moan, and fuck compares nothing to the swallowing of her voice.
Leaving her scent in every breath she tastes. Fasination lingers around to wink at her frame of mind leaving her closed eyes moist.
Each thrust, moan, and fuck compares nothing to the swallowing of her voice.
Leaving her scent in every breath she tastes. Fasination lingers around to wink at her frame of mind leaving her closed eyes moist.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Press Play
This isnt over baby, she wont believe a word they say. With eyes closed her heart cries. Whispers still lingers from last nights, and fingers still twitch from pause to stop to play. This song is for you says the empty sheets as the bed rocks and sways.
Running around the moans, floating above, and collapsing against the lips. Choking on empty air, none sense and incoherence. Counting the sips of lies as they pretend kiss. Tastes just like bliss.
Running around the moans, floating above, and collapsing against the lips. Choking on empty air, none sense and incoherence. Counting the sips of lies as they pretend kiss. Tastes just like bliss.
Monday, February 1, 2010
momentary fix
She wanna be addicted. Needing, shaking inside lustful bones. Rolling in heat for the things unsaid but needing to do. There has never been another so potent, fire in she blood. Tangled sheets and sweet heat.