You abandoned me in my own world. Left me to be my own guide and yet have to nerve to call me your shining star. Your goddamn hero. I think not. You say I have to hold your hand to keep you from going under, the very hands that let me go under.
I hate looking at you and seeing the absolute adoration on your face. You love me so much dont you? Are you happy that in me, you see the only good you have ever had in your shit life?
Its true, that everything you touch is ruined instantly. Leaving in your wake a trailing sea of infantile tears, no matter where you wander. Is that why you stayed away after I drowned in my own sea?
Just because I was pulled up just in time dont mean you didnt ruin me. I'm just dissolving at the bottom.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
Master of Cupcakes in the kitchen.
I lick the batter off my lips right before I orgasmed for the second time. On the kitchen floor, wrapped up in flour and sugar. My skin was moist and warm as the heat rose over my legs. Smirking I laid and basked in my naughtiness.
My is phone ringing and the dog barking, everything around me was chaos but at the moment, bliss and afterglow had me deliciously exhausted. I do not want to move from my cozy placement. But I had to because the timer to the oven with my cupcakes just went off. I will definitely bake more often in the future, if this is the yummy results.
My is phone ringing and the dog barking, everything around me was chaos but at the moment, bliss and afterglow had me deliciously exhausted. I do not want to move from my cozy placement. But I had to because the timer to the oven with my cupcakes just went off. I will definitely bake more often in the future, if this is the yummy results.
Friday, August 20, 2010
vellicate draft
vellicate \VEL-i-keyt\, verb:
1. To touch (a body part) lightly so as to excite the surface nerves and cause uneasiness, laughter, or spasmodic movements
My touch caused you all three. But its the uneasiness that worried me the most. The reason for this I guesstimate, is because of the being or presence growing inside you, simmering just under the skin, stretching out its yet not formed shape, and lounging its body as it tries to fill your every space. It's just me.
Its not you in particular that causes this me inside to come alive. Really its our closeness...and when I use 'you' in this insistence I really mean 'me'. I feel myself inside of you. Obviously, this is pure narcissistic on my part, this projecting, but it better than talking to the mirror.
I use the excuse of being instantly distraction by your voice to explain my actions, such as suddenly kissing you. Im becoming more responsive to the sounds around me. More so then I have ever been before. Especially when you whisper.
Kissing.
Is the easiest sound to understand. I kiss you because I want taste your sound and feel our music being created. Its uncontrollable infatuation...And so I do it without a second thought. I lied, I dont really understand it...at all. Why does this thought make me feel so small? Oh well it gives me to room to expand, I guess. But I can definitely go without the contradictions of the human condition.
Potential growth. Us expanding, she and I. I'm smiling as I write this. Brief memories we have already made. Together. When you are near me. Strange but not unusual, new and frightening things happen. I am given cool rain instead of firey passions. The grass. Tears of glorious frustration. Bridges on horses and music in the benches. My chest already ache, just a tiny bit because she is already missed.
While...
Between A and Z words are at war with each other. Thrown around black cannons, and little figures waiting for their turn to give speeches are picked off one by one. Blood splatters the ground poets march their rhythms on. And English linguistic and grammatical terms containing explanations for useless art comes up missing in all the organized chaos.
But after the plans for victory are accomplished I should take you by the hand. Vellicating your palm with my fingers, while waving to the crowd as they chant our names. The masses are dead, as heavy be the heads that wears the crowns.
1. To touch (a body part) lightly so as to excite the surface nerves and cause uneasiness, laughter, or spasmodic movements
My touch caused you all three. But its the uneasiness that worried me the most. The reason for this I guesstimate, is because of the being or presence growing inside you, simmering just under the skin, stretching out its yet not formed shape, and lounging its body as it tries to fill your every space. It's just me.
Its not you in particular that causes this me inside to come alive. Really its our closeness...and when I use 'you' in this insistence I really mean 'me'. I feel myself inside of you. Obviously, this is pure narcissistic on my part, this projecting, but it better than talking to the mirror.
I use the excuse of being instantly distraction by your voice to explain my actions, such as suddenly kissing you. Im becoming more responsive to the sounds around me. More so then I have ever been before. Especially when you whisper.
Kissing.
Is the easiest sound to understand. I kiss you because I want taste your sound and feel our music being created. Its uncontrollable infatuation...And so I do it without a second thought. I lied, I dont really understand it...at all. Why does this thought make me feel so small? Oh well it gives me to room to expand, I guess. But I can definitely go without the contradictions of the human condition.
Potential growth. Us expanding, she and I. I'm smiling as I write this. Brief memories we have already made. Together. When you are near me. Strange but not unusual, new and frightening things happen. I am given cool rain instead of firey passions. The grass. Tears of glorious frustration. Bridges on horses and music in the benches. My chest already ache, just a tiny bit because she is already missed.
While...
Between A and Z words are at war with each other. Thrown around black cannons, and little figures waiting for their turn to give speeches are picked off one by one. Blood splatters the ground poets march their rhythms on. And English linguistic and grammatical terms containing explanations for useless art comes up missing in all the organized chaos.
But after the plans for victory are accomplished I should take you by the hand. Vellicating your palm with my fingers, while waving to the crowd as they chant our names. The masses are dead, as heavy be the heads that wears the crowns.
Fragments
From your softly spoken words
I thought...
How can this feel, this wrong.
Knowing what was to become of us as we drove
Towards no where. Purposely making wrong turns.
unknown, destinations already forgotten.
At the moment I didnt care, but then again
I wasnt supposed to cry neither. I blame the hormones
hovering in the space around our mouths and noses.
Had to shield away from
your eyes...
Standing in the middle of the street.
Naked, waiting for useless comfort
that I didnt receive
I was relieved.
That I had night to cover my fright
I discover that
no one could see outside our eyes.
If we just close them. And turn away.
If anything that hurted more than the softly
spoken lie or truth?
I thought...
How can this feel, this wrong.
Knowing what was to become of us as we drove
Towards no where. Purposely making wrong turns.
unknown, destinations already forgotten.
At the moment I didnt care, but then again
I wasnt supposed to cry neither. I blame the hormones
hovering in the space around our mouths and noses.
Had to shield away from
your eyes...
Standing in the middle of the street.
Naked, waiting for useless comfort
that I didnt receive
I was relieved.
That I had night to cover my fright
I discover that
no one could see outside our eyes.
If we just close them. And turn away.
If anything that hurted more than the softly
spoken lie or truth?
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Over the bridge
It was a pretty moon hanging in the sky, waxing gibbous she pointed out. I like how astronomy turns up in the most random of places. I can say the class wasnt a complete waste. While I was in a silly mood, long before I saw her from where I laid in the grass. I found myself giggled to bits as I ran into her arms when she showed.
Affectionate.
We stood close to one another, always in constant touch. And if we did separate it was not for long. It wasnt hard for me to get a read on her as I saw bits of myself in her eyes. In the tone she used and the way she liked me to hold her.
If I didnt properly know the meaning of restraint before, I do now.
Her kisses werent rushed or hurried. Pressing our lips together like she had all the time in the world. Which essentially we did. And It was like taking a sip of cool water. Cooler than the flowing water below our feet. Dripping over my dry mouth, I was a dehydrated woman. If anything I am still thirsty.
Affectionate.
We stood close to one another, always in constant touch. And if we did separate it was not for long. It wasnt hard for me to get a read on her as I saw bits of myself in her eyes. In the tone she used and the way she liked me to hold her.
If I didnt properly know the meaning of restraint before, I do now.
Her kisses werent rushed or hurried. Pressing our lips together like she had all the time in the world. Which essentially we did. And It was like taking a sip of cool water. Cooler than the flowing water below our feet. Dripping over my dry mouth, I was a dehydrated woman. If anything I am still thirsty.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Moist and Damp
I went swimming and stayed there for days.
Laying on my back
with just my face pointing towards the sky.
With gravity pushing me up, never letting me down.
I heard my heart beating and
I felt, even days after
in a drifted high
the rhythm of me drowning.
It put me to sleep at night, gave me
a tune to walk to and
a song to capture.
Its a coping mechanism that I
switched on to reassure myself that I still had
...sorry have,
a heart. A beating red popper
that is still whole, all mine, and alive.
I go under every once and a while.
Just to be reminded what still lives on in my chest.
Long ago had
I gotten used to the dull ache
located just under my ribcage.
Now, it just tickles whenever I sneeze,
acts as suppressant, and
clenches with each breath.
I have learned
not to trust the people I meet,
for they will easily tie rocks to our
wrist and watch us sink.
Laying on my back
with just my face pointing towards the sky.
With gravity pushing me up, never letting me down.
I heard my heart beating and
I felt, even days after
in a drifted high
the rhythm of me drowning.
It put me to sleep at night, gave me
a tune to walk to and
a song to capture.
Its a coping mechanism that I
switched on to reassure myself that I still had
...sorry have,
a heart. A beating red popper
that is still whole, all mine, and alive.
I go under every once and a while.
Just to be reminded what still lives on in my chest.
Long ago had
I gotten used to the dull ache
located just under my ribcage.
Now, it just tickles whenever I sneeze,
acts as suppressant, and
clenches with each breath.
I have learned
not to trust the people I meet,
for they will easily tie rocks to our
wrist and watch us sink.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Relapsing pt 2
Relapsing yet again. Injecting more ink from her heart and out of her hand. So much writing that her fingers becomes swollen. Water burns and bandages itch. It bleeds out pain and bliss unlike no one could ever hope to understand.
From the start to finish it overwhelms her. Surfing the skin and bringing chill bumps with pleasure outlining each hair. But afterward its always a fight to stay warm. She wonders how could it feel this wrong.
It hurts to breath as her stomach decides to be sick. The end always leave her feeling so defeated. It disgusting to see the hold it has on her. Instead of the hold she supposed to have on the pencil. Because the only cure she has for the stinging, the only ointment available to heal the wounds caused by her obsession is more writing.
From the start to finish it overwhelms her. Surfing the skin and bringing chill bumps with pleasure outlining each hair. But afterward its always a fight to stay warm. She wonders how could it feel this wrong.
It hurts to breath as her stomach decides to be sick. The end always leave her feeling so defeated. It disgusting to see the hold it has on her. Instead of the hold she supposed to have on the pencil. Because the only cure she has for the stinging, the only ointment available to heal the wounds caused by her obsession is more writing.
Childs land
Will there be, a time for us to see one another as just friends?
I remember once having our own kind of paradise in between hours and seconds. That was a minute ago. But never again could it be the same when the sun goes down. No longer standing in the sight of you.
For its when the protective stray wolf venture out on to the playground. Our domain...and starts to build their own castle in our sand...Im sorry dig their own castle in my sand. Taking a hold of your throat and ripping out a smile from me at the boldness of it all.
Nor in the morning, when the emotions are so sweet that my teeth would rot off from all the sugar. When I wake up, I hear nothing and feel even less. No longer do it feel worthwhile. As I no longer second guess.
So when will it end? There has to exist such a thing as rest, between just friends and almost lovers.
I remember once having our own kind of paradise in between hours and seconds. That was a minute ago. But never again could it be the same when the sun goes down. No longer standing in the sight of you.
For its when the protective stray wolf venture out on to the playground. Our domain...and starts to build their own castle in our sand...Im sorry dig their own castle in my sand. Taking a hold of your throat and ripping out a smile from me at the boldness of it all.
Nor in the morning, when the emotions are so sweet that my teeth would rot off from all the sugar. When I wake up, I hear nothing and feel even less. No longer do it feel worthwhile. As I no longer second guess.
So when will it end? There has to exist such a thing as rest, between just friends and almost lovers.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
asleep
She felt lips on her dreams. And hands, heavy and warm sliding across the planes of her mind. Combined with light brushes in between the folds of each scene. It drove her deliciously mad.
Skin, breath, eyes, mouth replayed over and over again, deep into the night. Fragments Flashes. God it always felt so good. Even long after she had awaken with a wanton name on her tongue and pictures lingering still behind her lids.
Skin, breath, eyes, mouth replayed over and over again, deep into the night. Fragments Flashes. God it always felt so good. Even long after she had awaken with a wanton name on her tongue and pictures lingering still behind her lids.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Suffocation.
The frown was unable to leave her brow. And it grew worse as time moved forward. Her anxiety was building. Unexplainable anger edged around her eyes, tightening dangerously, it was irrational. But then so was life.
Teeth grinding into dust at the sheer force of ignorance, the pain was almost as crippling as the nails digging into her skin as she balls her fist. Beyond irritated and past disgust.
Cracked glass bleed down on her knuckles. The breeze seeped through easily but she was oblivious to the throbbing the wind brought. Wanting one thing and one thing only. Desperation started eating at her chest and with each breath it became worst and worst. Suffocation was her choice of poison tonight.
Teeth grinding into dust at the sheer force of ignorance, the pain was almost as crippling as the nails digging into her skin as she balls her fist. Beyond irritated and past disgust.
Cracked glass bleed down on her knuckles. The breeze seeped through easily but she was oblivious to the throbbing the wind brought. Wanting one thing and one thing only. Desperation started eating at her chest and with each breath it became worst and worst. Suffocation was her choice of poison tonight.
Friday, August 6, 2010
words of inspiration
Capturing the moment is impossible,
so she saviors it as much as she can.
It tastes tarty, and whimsical.
Like a walking daydream.
Aspirations arent sleeping,
but instead on a quest. Just like the
juices sliding down her chin,
dripping in between her breast.
Swollen. With second guesses
at what bread crumbs to follow.
Fuck it she will go wherever it leads.
And have a full stomach, with passion
absorbing in from head to toe.
so she saviors it as much as she can.
It tastes tarty, and whimsical.
Like a walking daydream.
Aspirations arent sleeping,
but instead on a quest. Just like the
juices sliding down her chin,
dripping in between her breast.
Swollen. With second guesses
at what bread crumbs to follow.
Fuck it she will go wherever it leads.
And have a full stomach, with passion
absorbing in from head to toe.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
sick withdrawals
The highway stretched far, and I have yet to see an end. My feet hurt and My body hurts even more. Today the angels touched my chest and praised my heart. But they refused to chase away the cough that runs after me tonight. Or the drowsiness.
Or the headaches.
Temptation was thrown at me. But I see no point if the nausea wont let me keep them down. No point at all.
Or the headaches.
Temptation was thrown at me. But I see no point if the nausea wont let me keep them down. No point at all.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Ladders
Her want was so deep tonight that I fell in and kept falling. I looked up in between the silver lining of her sky and felt like crying out in frustrations. It was because I kept falling down, over and over scraping my knee on the sides.
I keep my head bent back. eyes staring far enough upwards to not see whats in front of me. Once there is no more drugs I feel like dying anyways, So obviously there is no point.
No forward for me. My only goal is up. And I will climb forever into tomorrow, but tonight. Tonight I remain so sober it hurts. Whatever I choose to fall, this is my choice and keep falling into her want. Until I cant anymore.
I keep my head bent back. eyes staring far enough upwards to not see whats in front of me. Once there is no more drugs I feel like dying anyways, So obviously there is no point.
No forward for me. My only goal is up. And I will climb forever into tomorrow, but tonight. Tonight I remain so sober it hurts. Whatever I choose to fall, this is my choice and keep falling into her want. Until I cant anymore.
funny
Practice poems.
Rose are red,
Violets are blue,
I'm schizophrenic
And so am I
--
Courtesy of the Animaniacs:
"Roses are red
Violets are blue
That's what they say
but it just isn't true
Roses are red
And apples are too.
But violets are violet
Violets aren't blue
An orange is orange
But Greenland's not green
A pinky's not pink
So what does it mean?
To call something blue
When it's not, we defile it
But, ah, what the heck?
It's hard to rhyme violet"
Rose are red,
Violets are blue,
I'm schizophrenic
And so am I
--
Courtesy of the Animaniacs:
"Roses are red
Violets are blue
That's what they say
but it just isn't true
Roses are red
And apples are too.
But violets are violet
Violets aren't blue
An orange is orange
But Greenland's not green
A pinky's not pink
So what does it mean?
To call something blue
When it's not, we defile it
But, ah, what the heck?
It's hard to rhyme violet"
Pablo Neruda
Sonnet 17
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
in which there is no I or you
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand
so intimate that when you fall asleep it is my eyes that close
Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
in which there is no I or you
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand
so intimate that when you fall asleep it is my eyes that close
Pablo Neruda
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Letter Passions
The soft smile is still present even after I close my eyes. Words are so easily used to manipulate, especially when dealing with a tired soul but when it comes to letters. Things are different. Spelling out emotions and happiness with the ink. The very ink that swims thorough my arteries, is a hard task.
I smile even in the dark. When one can no long quiet make out the words. I still do. Its okay because morning will come and my hands that used to shield is now spread open with desire.
I smile even in the dark. When one can no long quiet make out the words. I still do. Its okay because morning will come and my hands that used to shield is now spread open with desire.