Consumption writing,
Gathering me in whole moments,
Gripping within the appeal time.
World sleeps and yet is awake,
And to the dangers of the night,
I am but inches away.
From pain and passion,
From annoyance and the beguiling scent,
Of love's aroma drifting through the air,
As warm as chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies,
Freshly baked in an oven of passion.
Passion
Oh, tired theme of mine,
I hold you close and yet deny you at the same time.
Why?
I see someone walking away,
And yet I see him standing there wanting me.
I see someone already here,
And yet I see him drifting away.
Or is it only my hope that the one walking away is staying?
And is it that I myself am walking away,
From the one that I thought was drifting away.
Here tonight I jump from passion to passion,
And fingers deftly punch letters into words,
As if I'll never get this chance again.
Every breath I hear makes me sigh.
Every letter I form with my mouth out loud,
Seems a cautionless obliteration,
Of the true beauty of my mind.
Oh, night..
Faithful friend of mine,
The one who keeps me sane when I can stand to love and write,
And pour out my passion no longer,
Please rescue me from myself,
Embrace me within warm dark velvet curtains,
And secure me within a rolled tight grasp,
As I feel my heart being stretched,
And my mind being torn from one corner to another.
While I'm sitting here,
And my writing makes no sense or clear point,
I am trying to purge myself of everything.
Of all the love
Of all the pain
Of all the lust
Of all the fast settling fear,
That one way or another I will soon have to loose.
Hurting again
Chest tight
Tears in my eye corners,
Feeling the slow gain of temporary insanity on my spirit,
And wishing..
oohh..wishing that this time,
It would stay
The insanity,
And that I might not have to know love again,
And that my heart might never claim to know unconditional plights.
How fervently the night feeds me this lonliness,
And yet how I love it.
How I bear its burdens within me,
And feel the full zest of its emotional moments.
And how strange and futile to know,
That there is only one person existing,
Who I truly want to know me,
And that is why I write,
To let him know me.
And I know he wants to realize me,
Too often he does.
I just wonder,
How long he can love me before he has to let me go,
And how long I can keep reins on my passion,
My love,
My tears,
My pain,
And my pure acidic aspirations of hope,
My love like solidity,
My tears, liquid pain and unrequited love blended.
My pain undiluted, intense when I don't fight it,
And often enough when I do.
And my pure acidic aspirations of hope,
That I won't cease to be one day,
Given all this passion,
This sharing of myself I do too much of.
This moment
I
Am sinking,
And I don't care
Because I'm hurting again,
And I'm not apologizing for it.
Someone push me under
Please
And let me drown.

  

still d-i-s-c-o-n-n-e-c-t-e-d
I am bound by this, you see...to become Night's sole mistress, and I am jealous in my endeavours for his attention.

To the world, you may only be one person. But to one person, you may be the world.

Sven,
Safety is in denial sometimes I suppose..   Thank you for reading, friend. Its good to have your eyes on my words.

Writer,
Thank you, and welcome to our family here. I am honored that you are reading my work.  

still d-i-s-c-o-n-n-e-c-t-e-d
I am bound by this, you see...to become Night's sole mistress, and I am jealous in my endeavours for his attention.