Forward and Back

Stories, why do they come about? The need to share with the world experiences that you feel will help, entertain, embellish, or inform. Sometimes, you make up stories just to clear your own head, or to relive glory moments. When I am well, and compose I feel little need to force myself on the paper, bleed on it, I have no idea why that is. I guess the conclusion is if I am to be a good writer, I should try to look for misery, and live it. It’s a tough trade off, very tough.

I guess the silence didn’t last long; it only took a week before the worry showed up again. It’s cyclic you see, the confirmation of what is must be renewed in order to keep insanity at bay. I wish I didn’t give birth to that situation. Still, how was I not to, because just like an enfant it’s full of potential. What was said before is what stands now, until it is uprooted. Work is calling again, stupid work.

Helping Hand

“He had woken up in her smell, one so sweet that he became dizzy as soon as his brain had process the signals. She was gone, but her perfume had embellished the side of the bed on which she had dream. The smell of beauty he though, thinking about that smell brought her back to him in ghost like memories. Everything about her he could see; her gentile and honest smile, her deep beautiful eyes, her succulent, small, and irresistible lips, her hair who’s fragrance he could not put in words, and her face, the personification of what he has wanted for a long time. With her picture in mind, he rolled over on his stomach to breathe her fully and found himself in the way. He thought about it, and then decided to give himself a helping hand.”

Fresh Air

Yahoo, it is beautiful day. I think I am singing now.

Intimacy

Intimacy - n 1: close or warm friendship; "the absence of fences created a mysterious intimacy in which no one knew privacy" [syn: familiarity, closeness] 2: a usually secretive or illicit sexual relationship [syn: affair, affaire, liaison, involvement, amour] 3: a feeling of being intimate and belonging together; "their closeness grew as the night wore on" [syn: closeness]

I saw a movie with that title yesterday, I am still making up my mind as to whether it was complete garbage, or if it was brilliant. I’ll have to look at it again before completely qualifying it at one or the other. It was the usual foreign soft-core porn stuff, nothing too crazy, but the story within it caused me to be squeamish and free at the same time. The acting deserved recognition, there’s no doubt about the, the actors should have gotten awards for the performances. As I am typing this, I am leaning toward classifying this movie as brilliant; still I’ll have to review it.

“if you really loved me you would not be contemplating giving yourself away to someone else, what kind of love is that, what kind of care is that, I don’t understand the way you love, I don’t understand and it’s wrecking me”

Line from the movie, you can’t kill that, can’t touch it with a 20’ pole baby.

Question

It’s not easy being me, the complete imbalance of needs, supply, and demands, driven by moral, forces of nature, desire to belong, and be wanted, causes reality to shift at a faster rate than I care to live by.

How do you prove love? This question came about while exploring one of my previous postings. I really don’t know how you can prove love without the use of time. That’s my take on it, that’s the only factor that I think can give enough evidence of love. How do you prove that you love your dad, mom, God, or anything for that matter? If you have any idea how to prove such a thing, share, let me know.

Told you I had a lot of time on my hands.

Daydream

The way I got the story doesn’t really matter, what matters is that the story came about. With that being said, let’s go into this fantasy of mine.

The laundry place was hot and humid, I was in there folding my T-shirts the way I usually do. She came in wearing something red that screamed ‘look at me now, and want me more’. I had notice her, and she knew I had noticed her because my mouth was open, and my eyes were affixed on this girls’ stuff. She was now walking towards me, in a slow, deliberate motion that gave me an insight into how she moved when she wanted to move. She stepped on my toes deliberately, looked up at me, and spoke very close to me and said “Let me help you close that mouth”, then she wrapped her mouth over my mine, and pushed my tongue away with hers, then pulled it again, all the while her left hand made its way inside my pants, and started pulling on me.

What, I am in class; I have the right to daydream. Now I can’t stand up and go to the board; it’s ok though, I’ve got more of her in my head.

Pass the Baton

Mr. Hard Core Soft Interior, aka, JaeBi talked about L.O.V.E in his blog yesterday, so I figured I’d keep the flame burning. In my present, past, future I have, had, and will experience that four letter word that brings so much to so many, and so much more to a few.

The whole world gets narrower
‘Cause all your thoughts are of her
Your words express great desire
Lips do much more when they reach her

Talking to fate
Describe your haste
For her estate

Your state of mind, irrelevant
Craving her ways, constant
The way she loves, potent
First stay in her stain, content

Short-Courte

The sweet revelation of dying pain
Open up the sky for a loving stain
Bids of joy to come like a sure refrain
Guarantee a life of more joy than pain

La doceur demasquer d’une paine mourante
A ouvert les cieux pour un mark d’amour
Des tabletes de joie revient comme un refrain
Guaranty une vie de plus de joie que de paine

...do is sleep

In my very limited reading career I’ve yet to come across anything that encapsulate the fiction that resides in my head. Though with fiction there’s a level of reality needed to make it believable, I refuse to inject my dreams with elements of boundaries found in our physical realm. If we only dreamed of things logically and physically possible, we would only be planning. Hopefully this disclaimer will free your thoughts from the cages created by reality.

My heart is melting, literally dripping on my right side, and oozing out of my pores onto the comforter. It’s dripping on my right side because I am curled up in the fetal position on my right shoulder, with my right cheek against the cotton of my pillowcase. I am curled up, shaking, pain is running through me like fire, and my heart, like butter, is melting. All that I know at this moment is that this pain will kill me. If I don’t fall asleep, if I don’t leave this world of consciousness, this fire will consume every last drop of my being. “All I want to do is sleep” sniff, sniff, “all I want to do is sleep.” The aftermath of this very long streak of mistakes led me here, I knew too well it was my doing, and that caused it to hurt more. I rock back and fourth, thinking about what I had lost, and another jolt of anguish ran through my body. There’s no way this could get worst, this is the underbelly of rock bottom, I thought, then I thought again; about his weight on top of her, and her, unlocking her legs to welcome him in, and my heart ceased to exist, I died. I knew I was dead because just like in the movies, I was standing over, or maybe floating over my body. I was seeing me from this angle the very first time, I looked so sad, so, so sad, like a lost child needing his earthly angel’s attention, a lost child wanting to be hugged and comforted by his mother. The transformation from grown man, to lonely child was instantaneous, and unmistakable, I was dead, and now I knew that at death you went back to the beginning, you went to back to where it all started.

Decide

It’s lazy Saturday, and from the look of it it’s going to get worst. Woke up at 8:47, been trying to fall back to sleep till, but things keep happening. I want to listen to loud music, and just bob my head. I also want to go to the range and hit some golf balls. The two don’t mix; it’s either one or the other. Funny how life keep throwing those things at you; it’s always having to make decisions that will leave you with the concrete knowledge that you are missing something. I guess you just have to man up and dive into one direction while trying to forget about the other. It makes it less painful, and allows you to move with greater efficiency in the direction that you’ve chosen. ‘There will be, ups and downs, frowns and smiles; share with me, fairy tales and make believe.’ I’ll have to pick one color and go with it, not worry about how it would have looked had I not chosen that one. Decisions, decision, decisions are all around us.

Elle

Yes complete chaos should have been her name
The impasse she lived had never been tame
Her kin of flesh died while trying the same
Her triumph made it nothing but a game

How was she so strong to survive this pain
Looking at her now, you will see no stain
Her story alone could drive you insane
Yet she had risen and hadn’t complain

It must have been God watching over her
Evil was present but never in her
Mother, I know now you are a fighter
Mother, I know now I'ma believer

Blue Penmanship

Still backing, yepper, nothing is going to make sense. The bottle is capped, meaning its cap is on, and its content is secure. The red of bloody bodies, it crusts up before you know it, so you have to wipe it clean with a red rag just so that your shadow doesn’t suffer. Modification capability of the squid causes it to be the perfect toy, for the fantastic four. Bush is not stupid, we are. People are moving around me, my cube is still, but the feet are moving around my cube. The fourth dimension, the other three she came up with, x, y, z. 11:05, it makes a difference is it’s PM or AM, I never wanted to care about the small stuff when in school, but I was applying that in the wrong school of thought. You don’t sweat the small stuff in life, but in school you have to be anal, they call that being thorough; I think I spelled that right, I hope I did. I love you, love you too. He flipped the phone too fast, something was wrong, the mistress was looking straight at him while he confessed his love for his wife; so wrong, so, so wrong. As the light succumbs to the night, his red eye flight fades slowly out of sight. Gone he was, is- the same problem, she kept talking, talking, talking. I just want to breath man, her everything, I want in my lungs. Sometimes it’s the nicotine from the dirty cigarette, this time it’s the odor of the patch of skin between her breasts. What do babies think about as they wrap their lips around a mother’s nipple, what does the mother think? Breastfeeding is for chumps, I refused it then, I refuse it still.

Glass Case

I’ve always been lucky, not rich, but very lucky. I’ve always found moments worth saving for an eternity; yesterday I stumbled upon one of those. You know those moments during which you hope to have had the power to stop time, and bask in it like a lizard in the sun. Those moments that you want to put in a thick glass bottle, and place in that untouchable, unbreakable, unerasable place in your brain’s cabinet. I found one of those moments yesterday, lying around, completely unassuming, waiting to be recognized, captured, and owned. I now am the proud protector of this time frame, I am going to savor it, I am going to admire it like a precious painting, and I am going to treasure it like a masterpiece.