Siesta Interrupted

I can feel it in the air, this sense about me, a light whisper on the wind, gentle touch on my being. I can hear it speaking to me in hushed tones, calling my name in a light echo...Earl Earl Earl. I feel the presence of something, it's here, alive tugging at me - I rise from my siesta to find, nothing - nothing but that freaking flickering blue screen of my computer, the hard feel of my desk upon which my head so soundly rested and the irritating continuous buzz from an aged air conditioning unit. Yep, I felt it in the air alright - it was work and it was saying time to get back to the grind. Sigh!

Conversation Inspired

I am not cut from the cloth of fidelity; it seems to run contrary to my very instinct – that primordial ooze coursing through my veins, pre-occupying my thoughts; it would seem my garment is that of iniquity, as the sanctimonious would pontificate.

My thoughts and actions are frowned upon; the pious label it lustful and immoral; a sub-construct of the dogma handed down for generations – blinded, illogical virtue; aimed at control of the masses, galvanizing of thought – singularity; a security blanket for the insecure – uneasy in their own skin, disturbed by their ravenous desires and lecherous thoughts of visceral pleasure.

No, I am not cut from that cloth; and am I to feel shame, unworthy, unclean – hell bound; my virtue questionable, my salaciousness objectionable. Yes, I am inherently lascivious and for this I must dodge stares and loquacious tongues, defend judgment of my moral fiber from the ostensibly sinless; feigning purity or sainthood – be made to some how feel inadequate, weak, undeserving of affection; relegated to solitude and/or ephemeral tryst.

Fuck the righteous, spare me your indignation; your adjudication in the court of misguided morality. Fuck you for making me think that my nature is to be abhorred or viewed as an aberration; some fucking freak of nature – my actions put on display for your entertainment, your water cooler talk, your subject of dinner conversation or alcohol induced drivel.

Fuck you, fuck you twice. I can make the choice to be pretentious, self-loathing, to deny me, my very being – but fuck it; I choose to surrender to my nature – be it whatever the fuck it is… so yes fuck you very much – I am not cut from the cloth of fidelity. But unlike you and your ilk – I will respect your view of morality, after all it is your right, purposeful – I bring meaning to your purpose; my nature is a necessary evil to vindicate your conviction of virtue and righteousness.

Hi5 pics - down memory lane

Consternation

Thanks for ruining this, whatever this is, it is what it is, and what it is is a place I don't want to be, with feelings of hurt mixed in with anger - ambivalent. Complicity in this irreconcilable duplicity. I hate this, walking that fine line, on a plank standing on the edge of an abyss of unfamiliar emotions, scared - fear of what lies beneath. Thanks for taking me to that place and bringing me back, from comfort to angst, trust to apprehension, in a breath, collapsing lungs with the wind sucked out of a fresh morning breeze. For what, fear, fear of being free from the shackles of guarded rancor; let it bloom, don't deny a slice of momentary illusion stretched into the minds reality, stolen but for a moment, succinct but enduring. Why extinguish this raging flame, pre-maturely, fear of being burnt, step back, take it in, bask in the awesomeness, the beauty of something so untamed - real. Live, love, fight, undaunted by the unknown - intrepid.

True Blood

I dreamt of an epic battle between vampires and werewolves last night. In my dream the centuries long war came down to one decisive battle - I was a vampire; me and my kind were powerful but out numbered and out strategized. The odds seemed stacked against us - ah, by now you see a familiar theme - fierce battle where I am the good bad guy and the odds are against me. It's been a while since I've had one of those dreams, and last night I'm not sure that I can attribute my dream to a resurgence of that perpetual war being waged in the recesses of my cerebral; or whether its was a sub-conscious dramatization of Sofie watching freaking "True Blood". Oh well!!!

True Blood or not I dreamt - and it was not an unfamiliar scene. I'm always fighting my demons, sometimes they win, sometimes I do - the war never ends.

Ambivalence

My heart bleeds but a minute at your sight

Tears come to the surface, but they won't fall

I feel for a second, but empathize for less

Wonder for a moment, how did this happen

What are your regrets

Then I dismiss all thought, all feeling

Till when next we cross paths

Private Dancer

I see you looking at me
Look at me, what do you see
Your eyes caress my every curve
You take in my every blemish, tattoo, piercing

I see you looking at me
Look at me, what do you see
Brown skin beauty, body just right
Bold, confident, sex pot, little me

I see you looking at me
Look at me, what do you see
Flexible, talented, strong, vivacious, me

I see you looking at me
Look at me, go on tell me what you see
Desirable vixen being all I can be
The object of your fantasy
Tell me is that what you see

I see you looking at me
Look at me, but you don't see me
This is not who I want to be
Your weekend entertainment
Exposing some of me

I see you looking at me
Look at me, let me tell you what to see
Long days and lonely nights
All the hardships endured in my life

I see you looking at me
Look at me, I'll show you more of me
Liquid courage, it's not confidence you see
This is not strength, it's the fear you don't see

Go ahead, look at me
Tell me what you see
Do you see my pain, my loneliness, my strife
The bitterness and emptiness I bury down inside
Look at me, look at me, see the misery of my life

I see you looking at me
Look at me, what do you see
Do you see stripper, dancer, a lady of the night
Do you see mother, daughter, some man's wife

I see you looking at me
Look at me, what do you see
What you're watching is the illusion of me
I see you looking, keep looking
Would you want to be me?