1:45 am Mondy July 31.
the weekend is officially over.
not a call. no contact. that facinating, intriguing man never found his way to me.
there's some sadness. there's some self-pity. there's mostly loss for what i thought would be an interesting and fun encounter.
1:45 am Monday July 31.
i won't hear from him now. and i think it best to not contact him further. am i missing out? is he? no telling. i'm just sad that i'll never get a chance to find out.
on the other hand, the writer wants me to be his domme. he fatasizes about being age-regressed, being under parental control.
i guess in the absense of one intrigue, i've been issued another.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Saturday, July 29, 2006
D Day come
2pm. saturday, july 29th.
no word from the facination.
he's in town this weekend. that lovely long-haired surfer photographer. somewhere in OR right now. that aussie accent. that focused nikon attention. closer now than ever. and still impossibly far.
e askes, 'are you gonna fuck him tonight?', reference to the writer. meeting him in portland for drinks, darts, and a show. i'm waxed. i've lived off molassass/lemon/cayenne pepper water for the last 3 days. why not? but no desire. my mind is elsewhere. on another. and i've cultivated enough distractions this month. but if there's pot... well, who knows.
2:30pm. saturday, july 29th.
we tried to keep up hope of contact. we tried, in all our supportive friend ways to assure me that this one... there's a good feeling about this one... sad thing is good feelings don't always work both ways. or maybe, he's preoccupied by other good feelings. good 125lb blonde busty good feelings.
ah well. there's still time. i emailed him my phone number. maybe. right? maybe?
and so it is. another unfulfilled opportunity.
and me, without falafel.
no word from the facination.
he's in town this weekend. that lovely long-haired surfer photographer. somewhere in OR right now. that aussie accent. that focused nikon attention. closer now than ever. and still impossibly far.
e askes, 'are you gonna fuck him tonight?', reference to the writer. meeting him in portland for drinks, darts, and a show. i'm waxed. i've lived off molassass/lemon/cayenne pepper water for the last 3 days. why not? but no desire. my mind is elsewhere. on another. and i've cultivated enough distractions this month. but if there's pot... well, who knows.
2:30pm. saturday, july 29th.
we tried to keep up hope of contact. we tried, in all our supportive friend ways to assure me that this one... there's a good feeling about this one... sad thing is good feelings don't always work both ways. or maybe, he's preoccupied by other good feelings. good 125lb blonde busty good feelings.
ah well. there's still time. i emailed him my phone number. maybe. right? maybe?
and so it is. another unfulfilled opportunity.
and me, without falafel.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
quick wishes
for my dear darling dave - a safe and speedy move. one with only the good kinds of adventure that leave you smiling down the road. and a renewed life, breathing full and deep the artistic life that pacific has stolen from you.
for my fiery friend - more comforting arms around you and less rehashed conversations. a wish that one of you would make that movie moment, midst fight/argument/conversation, reach across and still the other person's retort with a kiss. a kiss to communicate understanding, love, passion and the knowledge that it's all gonna be alright.
for my well obscured observer - that you would have brought me left-overs from nicholas'! and that you continue to grow and glow as an artist of image and word.
for my 'downs' baby brother - friendly skies, never another scratch of poison ivy, and the acceptance of a father 27 years past due. oh i pray this is for you and not for him. his vision is so distorted that even when you're living in his image he still sees only flaws.
for my distraction - that that 'awe shucks charlie brown' gaze will lift and light upon someone able to return it.
for my pumpkin - that your loneliness will pass soon. that the sadness you feel creeping in won't hinder you from venturing out.
for box girl - a speedy pack and unpack. there's muppet uno waiting for you, and the smile of a friend who's missed you.
for my husband and the father of my baboon - continued mending. make her work for you, make her earn you back. make her show the love you both believe to be there.
for my trail-walking friend - steam that knocks you to your knees. and a lightness of soul that lets you get back up.
for my latest temptation - that you'll be tempted too.
for me - to become the goddess she sees. to embody the strength, endurance, creation and cradling of the sea.
for my fiery friend - more comforting arms around you and less rehashed conversations. a wish that one of you would make that movie moment, midst fight/argument/conversation, reach across and still the other person's retort with a kiss. a kiss to communicate understanding, love, passion and the knowledge that it's all gonna be alright.
for my well obscured observer - that you would have brought me left-overs from nicholas'! and that you continue to grow and glow as an artist of image and word.
for my 'downs' baby brother - friendly skies, never another scratch of poison ivy, and the acceptance of a father 27 years past due. oh i pray this is for you and not for him. his vision is so distorted that even when you're living in his image he still sees only flaws.
for my distraction - that that 'awe shucks charlie brown' gaze will lift and light upon someone able to return it.
for my pumpkin - that your loneliness will pass soon. that the sadness you feel creeping in won't hinder you from venturing out.
for box girl - a speedy pack and unpack. there's muppet uno waiting for you, and the smile of a friend who's missed you.
for my husband and the father of my baboon - continued mending. make her work for you, make her earn you back. make her show the love you both believe to be there.
for my trail-walking friend - steam that knocks you to your knees. and a lightness of soul that lets you get back up.
for my latest temptation - that you'll be tempted too.
for me - to become the goddess she sees. to embody the strength, endurance, creation and cradling of the sea.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
sooo, updates....
its here i hear the lily dance--
i've not heard from distraction. my lack of communication may have finally made point. i feel sad though. his last email included the line, "'cause i kinda like you and want to hang out or whatever". and if that is charlie brown down gazing and kicking at the dirt over the little redheaded girl, i don't know what is. but it's gotten silent. there haven't been emails or IM's in a couple days. i think that the bloom is finally off the rose.
its here i hear the lily dance--
the hiker, the pirate and the writer. two down and one to go, by way of internet introductions. the hiker came out on saturday afternoon. we walked the beach, sat and talked, had a drink (well i did, he had water), then went for dinner at a little dive bar i love. the hiker was gentle. gentle in appearance--soft and large. gentle in voice--never sharp, never above accepted conversation levels. gentle in gaze--no tawdry looks or wandering eyes. gentle in speech--politically correct and morally correct, buddhist. all this gentility lends me to believe that he may also be gentle of mind. so, while none of these are bad things, and are in fact often sought after, i never felt engaged or engaging.
and so, by 8 he had gone. with a gentle hug and a wish to see me in portland soon. by nine i had received an email from the pirate, saying he was bored. i sent him my address and told him to get on mapquest then get in the car. it would take two hours to get to me. he wrote back that he would. and he did. and he too was gentle. timid from years of being alone. shyness little helped with alcohol is a hard and fast shyness to be met with. and he was supposed to be the pirate, the raucous and rowdy. i took him to bed, he's come prepared for the practicalities but not the act itself. a 6 year hiatus had left him more than a little tense. i worked over an hour, hand and mouth, to massage this man, to relax him, to free him. .... the hardest part for me has always been when the gentleman acknowledges his record setting times. as this one did. and the most compassionate and fitting reply is hardly ever enough to soothe that wounded ego. but i try. as i did with the pirate. morning came, he bid me farewell and said he wished to me in portland soon. and i was left to more stillness.
its here i hear the lily dance--
the writer. he's on his way to my last hometown in two weeks. making a break for chicago, hoping for a break with his writing, which i think is great, but has been met with less than encouraging words from friends. we banter. i can hear the bitter sarcasm leaping from his tongue like pop-rocks and coke. i can hear it because i've known it. he's dry and satirical. sardonic and sarcastic. and i would get wet enough just at that. but he's about to move. and i'm afraid to ruin the fantasy by meeting him, and he's afraid of meeting a fantasy by meeting me. we've agreed we should meet, have an anti-climactic encounter and part ways to return to cyber flirtation. he'll be free to leave portland unencumbered by romantic intrigue and i'll be free to remain unencumbered. i'll be left to the stillness and the silence again.
its here i hear the lily dance--
tonight, two weeks after first writing to the surfer/photographer/millionaire... three unanswered emails later... tonight i get this:
Sj, no worries, I love your enthusiasm, maybe you should become a photog! I know a way you could school in 9 months... and come work... busy me, gotta go...C
no mention of his trip up here this coming weekend. no mention of a meeting. only a brief allusion to my embarrassment over asking a famed photographer to "show me how" and look at my photos. where for a moment the announcement of his name in my outbox stirred me, the moment past and left me still. again. so still.
its here i hear the lily dance--
its here i hear the lily dance
swaying 'gainst the reaching grass
swirling with the whistling wind
her only partner shadow cast.
that, my friend, is my update. my disconnected, gentle, timid, relocating, better forgotten update.
but i guess it's been quite a dance.
i've not heard from distraction. my lack of communication may have finally made point. i feel sad though. his last email included the line, "'cause i kinda like you and want to hang out or whatever". and if that is charlie brown down gazing and kicking at the dirt over the little redheaded girl, i don't know what is. but it's gotten silent. there haven't been emails or IM's in a couple days. i think that the bloom is finally off the rose.
its here i hear the lily dance--
the hiker, the pirate and the writer. two down and one to go, by way of internet introductions. the hiker came out on saturday afternoon. we walked the beach, sat and talked, had a drink (well i did, he had water), then went for dinner at a little dive bar i love. the hiker was gentle. gentle in appearance--soft and large. gentle in voice--never sharp, never above accepted conversation levels. gentle in gaze--no tawdry looks or wandering eyes. gentle in speech--politically correct and morally correct, buddhist. all this gentility lends me to believe that he may also be gentle of mind. so, while none of these are bad things, and are in fact often sought after, i never felt engaged or engaging.
and so, by 8 he had gone. with a gentle hug and a wish to see me in portland soon. by nine i had received an email from the pirate, saying he was bored. i sent him my address and told him to get on mapquest then get in the car. it would take two hours to get to me. he wrote back that he would. and he did. and he too was gentle. timid from years of being alone. shyness little helped with alcohol is a hard and fast shyness to be met with. and he was supposed to be the pirate, the raucous and rowdy. i took him to bed, he's come prepared for the practicalities but not the act itself. a 6 year hiatus had left him more than a little tense. i worked over an hour, hand and mouth, to massage this man, to relax him, to free him. .... the hardest part for me has always been when the gentleman acknowledges his record setting times. as this one did. and the most compassionate and fitting reply is hardly ever enough to soothe that wounded ego. but i try. as i did with the pirate. morning came, he bid me farewell and said he wished to me in portland soon. and i was left to more stillness.
its here i hear the lily dance--
the writer. he's on his way to my last hometown in two weeks. making a break for chicago, hoping for a break with his writing, which i think is great, but has been met with less than encouraging words from friends. we banter. i can hear the bitter sarcasm leaping from his tongue like pop-rocks and coke. i can hear it because i've known it. he's dry and satirical. sardonic and sarcastic. and i would get wet enough just at that. but he's about to move. and i'm afraid to ruin the fantasy by meeting him, and he's afraid of meeting a fantasy by meeting me. we've agreed we should meet, have an anti-climactic encounter and part ways to return to cyber flirtation. he'll be free to leave portland unencumbered by romantic intrigue and i'll be free to remain unencumbered. i'll be left to the stillness and the silence again.
its here i hear the lily dance--
tonight, two weeks after first writing to the surfer/photographer/millionaire... three unanswered emails later... tonight i get this:
Sj, no worries, I love your enthusiasm, maybe you should become a photog! I know a way you could school in 9 months... and come work... busy me, gotta go...C
no mention of his trip up here this coming weekend. no mention of a meeting. only a brief allusion to my embarrassment over asking a famed photographer to "show me how" and look at my photos. where for a moment the announcement of his name in my outbox stirred me, the moment past and left me still. again. so still.
its here i hear the lily dance--
its here i hear the lily dance
swaying 'gainst the reaching grass
swirling with the whistling wind
her only partner shadow cast.
that, my friend, is my update. my disconnected, gentle, timid, relocating, better forgotten update.
but i guess it's been quite a dance.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
of all the kinky duct tape things
i've heard "get the duct tape"
i've heard "use the duct tape"
i've heard "wear the duct tape"
but i've never til now, heard, "leave the duct tape"
i've heard "use the duct tape"
i've heard "wear the duct tape"
but i've never til now, heard, "leave the duct tape"
tangled web deceives
it's quieter than it should be for a saturday night north of hell
the blue glow of my cathode nightlight falsely seducing me with
'stepped right out' busy messages and unfulfilled inboxes
and my only argument being that i was told, "connection complete"
the blue glow of my cathode nightlight falsely seducing me with
'stepped right out' busy messages and unfulfilled inboxes
and my only argument being that i was told, "connection complete"
Friday, July 14, 2006
competition
Ribbons and Bose
she's the flirty little debutante starfucker
her head in his lap sucking his wallet limp and dry
arm candy demanding dolche & gabana
tits lifted higher than her gift nose will go.
her head in his lap sucking his wallet limp and dry
arm candy demanding dolche & gabana
tits lifted higher than her gift nose will go.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
who am i kidding?
he's famous, at least in some circles, photography circles, sports circles.
i'm blehh. at least in comparison.
i'm the girl who takes grainy, blurred photos of rocks, and i've asked him (not knowing who he was) to help me? am i fucking kidding? it's like walking up to hendrix and saying, could you show me the "g" chord?
i'm the girl who thinks that chocolate brownies should be considered a part of the food pyramid because chocolate comes from cocoa beans and beans are legumes. i'm the girl who fights to keep her weight down and her tits up. i'm not the 'bunny-caliber' that this guy is likely accustomed to.
i can't make change for a dollar right now.
i live in a shack. a filthy shack. an embarrassment of sorts that i wouldn't know where to begin to clean. and my car? oh, well, with the duct tape holding the side rearview on and the recently demolished drivers seat... oh yeah. i'm a fucking prize. get thee to thy trailer park, woman.
i'm afraid this possibility of a meeting is only working towards lowering my self image. for god's sake, my last date paid with FOOD STAMPS!
my insecurity level has just skyrocketed. i mean, i'm not freaking out about meeting D. he hikes. he lives in an unassuming town near by. he works in software. HE DOESN'T HAVE A COUCH EITHER!
but C, well, C is planets, galaxies away from anything i would recognize. i'm going to look like the dull, fat friend on doubles night. the one who gets the pity date from the cute guy's friend so that the pretty girl won't feel bad about leaving early.
i need to stop now.
i need to forget that i ever spoke to him.
i need to lose the illusion that he'll even contact me.
i need to walk away before this becomes the disappointment it's bound to be.
i need to hire a maid or a housekeeper.
i need to lose 15 pounds.
i need to go back to contacting normal guys with normal lives who's names are not splashed around in newspapers and sports blogs. (seriously, i searched his name on here and came up with more than a page of hits for photo credits.)
this is ridiculous.
i am ridiculous.
and i dare you... DARE YOU... to prove me otherwise.
i'm blehh. at least in comparison.
i'm the girl who takes grainy, blurred photos of rocks, and i've asked him (not knowing who he was) to help me? am i fucking kidding? it's like walking up to hendrix and saying, could you show me the "g" chord?
i'm the girl who thinks that chocolate brownies should be considered a part of the food pyramid because chocolate comes from cocoa beans and beans are legumes. i'm the girl who fights to keep her weight down and her tits up. i'm not the 'bunny-caliber' that this guy is likely accustomed to.
i can't make change for a dollar right now.
i live in a shack. a filthy shack. an embarrassment of sorts that i wouldn't know where to begin to clean. and my car? oh, well, with the duct tape holding the side rearview on and the recently demolished drivers seat... oh yeah. i'm a fucking prize. get thee to thy trailer park, woman.
i'm afraid this possibility of a meeting is only working towards lowering my self image. for god's sake, my last date paid with FOOD STAMPS!
my insecurity level has just skyrocketed. i mean, i'm not freaking out about meeting D. he hikes. he lives in an unassuming town near by. he works in software. HE DOESN'T HAVE A COUCH EITHER!
but C, well, C is planets, galaxies away from anything i would recognize. i'm going to look like the dull, fat friend on doubles night. the one who gets the pity date from the cute guy's friend so that the pretty girl won't feel bad about leaving early.
i need to stop now.
i need to forget that i ever spoke to him.
i need to lose the illusion that he'll even contact me.
i need to walk away before this becomes the disappointment it's bound to be.
i need to hire a maid or a housekeeper.
i need to lose 15 pounds.
i need to go back to contacting normal guys with normal lives who's names are not splashed around in newspapers and sports blogs. (seriously, i searched his name on here and came up with more than a page of hits for photo credits.)
this is ridiculous.
i am ridiculous.
and i dare you... DARE YOU... to prove me otherwise.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
but wait...
just when you thought i was already the epitome of amazing...
thing is, i can't say 27 without smiling and breaking into ridiculous laughter.
a new friend, from far away (splits time between caymen islands and texas) was talking (IM) to me last night. drunk. and begging me to turn on my webcam. thing is, i'm at work, so no can do. then, he stops.
...
and says, "do you know how much i'm worth?" i can tell he's driving at a point here because he doesn't let me get a word in, "do you want to know how much i'm worth?". and now it seems like he really just wants, no needs, to tell me. so i bite. and say, "how much?"
"27 million. not including the companies that i own with partners." huh.
my best reply..."well that's more than me."
see he had asked me open a paypal account. and while i already have one, i was skeptical and didn't hand out that info. "why?" i asked.
"because i want to help you out. do you know why? because i like you and because you like me and you give me a chance." and suddenly, doing some quick math, i realize that if that's all it takes to get part of millions that i am way over due from some people and need to start calling in my accounts!
see, i give you that upfront. you get the like, and the acceptance and the chance. you get that automatically (good or bad for me). it goes away when you fuck up. and i tell him that. i tell him, "of course i like you. you haven't given me reason not to. you've been a nice, fun guy. you haven't treated me like shit." i guess it works differenly when you have money.
his drunk is beginning to hit him hard at this point and he says he's going to bed. but then, "i'm gonna wake up the cook and the housekeeper. (yes, the cook and the housekeeper) get them to make some food for me. i'm hungry." before i can finish the sentence that that doesn't sound like the best of ideas to me at 3am he decided that sleep and a non-vertical position is really more important.
i talked to him again this morning. he spoke (coherently and soberly) about his parents, his connection to his great grand mother, the woman he loves in boston...
but still...
27 will never be the same.
i can count to 27 with my eyes closed! yes, yes i can.
thing is, i can't say 27 without smiling and breaking into ridiculous laughter.
a new friend, from far away (splits time between caymen islands and texas) was talking (IM) to me last night. drunk. and begging me to turn on my webcam. thing is, i'm at work, so no can do. then, he stops.
...
and says, "do you know how much i'm worth?" i can tell he's driving at a point here because he doesn't let me get a word in, "do you want to know how much i'm worth?". and now it seems like he really just wants, no needs, to tell me. so i bite. and say, "how much?"
"27 million. not including the companies that i own with partners." huh.
my best reply..."well that's more than me."
see he had asked me open a paypal account. and while i already have one, i was skeptical and didn't hand out that info. "why?" i asked.
"because i want to help you out. do you know why? because i like you and because you like me and you give me a chance." and suddenly, doing some quick math, i realize that if that's all it takes to get part of millions that i am way over due from some people and need to start calling in my accounts!
see, i give you that upfront. you get the like, and the acceptance and the chance. you get that automatically (good or bad for me). it goes away when you fuck up. and i tell him that. i tell him, "of course i like you. you haven't given me reason not to. you've been a nice, fun guy. you haven't treated me like shit." i guess it works differenly when you have money.
his drunk is beginning to hit him hard at this point and he says he's going to bed. but then, "i'm gonna wake up the cook and the housekeeper. (yes, the cook and the housekeeper) get them to make some food for me. i'm hungry." before i can finish the sentence that that doesn't sound like the best of ideas to me at 3am he decided that sleep and a non-vertical position is really more important.
i talked to him again this morning. he spoke (coherently and soberly) about his parents, his connection to his great grand mother, the woman he loves in boston...
but still...
27 will never be the same.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Smiths break - 'Ask'
Shyness is nice, but
Shyness can stop you
From doing all the things in life
That you'd like to
So, if there's something that you'd
like to try
If there's something that you'd
like to try
ASK ME - I WON'T SAY "NO" - HOW COULD I ?
Coyness is nice, but
Coyness can stop you
from saying all the things in
life that you want to
So, if there's something that you'd
like to try
If there's something that you'd
like to try
ASK ME - I WON'T SAY "NO" - HOW COULD I ?
Spending warm, Summer days indoors
Writing frightening verse
To a buck-toothed girl in Luxemburg
ASK ME, ME, MEASK ME, ME, ME
Because if it's not Love
Then it's the Bomb
That will bring us together
Nature is a language - can't you read ?
Nature is a language - can't you read ?
ASK ME, ME, MEASK ME, ME, ME
Because if it's not Love
Then it's the Bomb
That will bring us together
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
because i am insane
i'm inflicting myself upon the rich and attractive men of california (and other states too, but i have focus).
only two of them though. both surfers. one a self proclaimed artist and professional photographer. both 40.
one wrote to me.
some guy in either WA or NY, wrote to me saying that he could start me out at $1,500 a week. if i sent him my number he would call me in 2 minutes and discuss the details.
i told him i wasn't sure what he was asking. but wow. that money could come in handy. too bad i'm not that kind of whore.
this might just be the enterainment i was looking for. a new distraction. now i just have to figure out how to nicely get rid of the last/current one.
only two of them though. both surfers. one a self proclaimed artist and professional photographer. both 40.
one wrote to me.
some guy in either WA or NY, wrote to me saying that he could start me out at $1,500 a week. if i sent him my number he would call me in 2 minutes and discuss the details.
i told him i wasn't sure what he was asking. but wow. that money could come in handy. too bad i'm not that kind of whore.
this might just be the enterainment i was looking for. a new distraction. now i just have to figure out how to nicely get rid of the last/current one.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
faery tale for all ages
do you think frogs hop around waiting to be picked by the eager lips of hopeful princesses?
is there a frog prince hoping some some kitchen wench will happen by, kiss him and turn toad?
and so as not to stick to the gender games of old-fashion faery tales: do you think there is a prince, dreaming of a frog to kiss and turn into his princess?
i'm a silly girl with fantastic dreams and delusions. my most recent one is of a prince in a land far away, but not so far. and he's a prince, but lacks the seal of highest royalty. humanity and nature are still in him equal, so it seems. and i've been hopping underneath his window, unseen and unrealized for two nights. i watch the glow coming thru, squint my eyes for changes and pray a door will be left ajar as a semiconscious invitation. on other days, i have a quick and strong leap, but here i fear to use it. if he were frog too, not a prince, i would have made a gliding leap in his direction and licked his eyes to clear his view in passing. but i fear the prince would detest the scars of hard living and the warts too common of my species.
he's in camelot, and i the muddy creek. and princes don't pass time wandering in bogs, at least not after puberty. now he's in the halls, escorting ladies of pedigree. and i'm outside, chasing the wind, seeing his face in the cool stream reflections. he will waltz in tux and tails. i'll be splashing in ponds dancing on a lily-pad.
and if he could catch a glimpse of me, would he see me for what i am? or would he see me the same as all the other eager, leaping, parading scores before him? i'm no better than the rest of my kind, and certainly no worse than his. but the rejection of a prince is profound. and the attentions of my own kind are plenty.
so tell me, gentle reader, tell this frog the truth. is a melding of the species likely? or should i continue with the skins i have?
is there a frog prince hoping some some kitchen wench will happen by, kiss him and turn toad?
and so as not to stick to the gender games of old-fashion faery tales: do you think there is a prince, dreaming of a frog to kiss and turn into his princess?
i'm a silly girl with fantastic dreams and delusions. my most recent one is of a prince in a land far away, but not so far. and he's a prince, but lacks the seal of highest royalty. humanity and nature are still in him equal, so it seems. and i've been hopping underneath his window, unseen and unrealized for two nights. i watch the glow coming thru, squint my eyes for changes and pray a door will be left ajar as a semiconscious invitation. on other days, i have a quick and strong leap, but here i fear to use it. if he were frog too, not a prince, i would have made a gliding leap in his direction and licked his eyes to clear his view in passing. but i fear the prince would detest the scars of hard living and the warts too common of my species.
he's in camelot, and i the muddy creek. and princes don't pass time wandering in bogs, at least not after puberty. now he's in the halls, escorting ladies of pedigree. and i'm outside, chasing the wind, seeing his face in the cool stream reflections. he will waltz in tux and tails. i'll be splashing in ponds dancing on a lily-pad.
and if he could catch a glimpse of me, would he see me for what i am? or would he see me the same as all the other eager, leaping, parading scores before him? i'm no better than the rest of my kind, and certainly no worse than his. but the rejection of a prince is profound. and the attentions of my own kind are plenty.
so tell me, gentle reader, tell this frog the truth. is a melding of the species likely? or should i continue with the skins i have?
madness
what i write between the lines is madness
what i feel within my viens is madness
i see clamoring, fierce clamoring, around me... striving with dedication and fear to avoid sucumbing to that madness.
how can you escape what's all around you, filling the gaps between what's spoken? how can you hide from what is within, making you pink with life and vibrating with expectation?
i shut off, shut down, shut out, shut in. a recluse of my own devising, with desperation trying to hold my madness in and yours out.
i've come a distance, but didn't go far enough. places i visit in jest are the unbuilt homes of my heart and imagination. waters south of me seem deeper, mysterious and uncharted. i would dive into them if i only knew that rocks and dangers weren't right below the surface.
'a' presents and 'b' presents and 'c' presents, half the alphabet following, asking me to put them in order, make sense of them--alone. those that don't present are the ones that i chase after, believing this sentence will make more sense with their inclusion.
but, madness it still is. and i reign high queen above tracks and tracks of it.
what i feel within my viens is madness
i see clamoring, fierce clamoring, around me... striving with dedication and fear to avoid sucumbing to that madness.
how can you escape what's all around you, filling the gaps between what's spoken? how can you hide from what is within, making you pink with life and vibrating with expectation?
i shut off, shut down, shut out, shut in. a recluse of my own devising, with desperation trying to hold my madness in and yours out.
i've come a distance, but didn't go far enough. places i visit in jest are the unbuilt homes of my heart and imagination. waters south of me seem deeper, mysterious and uncharted. i would dive into them if i only knew that rocks and dangers weren't right below the surface.
'a' presents and 'b' presents and 'c' presents, half the alphabet following, asking me to put them in order, make sense of them--alone. those that don't present are the ones that i chase after, believing this sentence will make more sense with their inclusion.
but, madness it still is. and i reign high queen above tracks and tracks of it.