Small death

Beautiful, simply beautiful the way your body quivers beneath me
Sound muted...no clemancy from pleasure mixed sweetly with pain
Skin flushed with ecstasy, shades of sensual euphoria
Eyes wide shut, taken in everything, seeing nothing
Involuntary utterances of a crescendo of profanity on the cusp of la petite la mort

Sleepless in Desablon 1

It's been a while since I've been here, but I return reluctantly at the call of the witching hour - the glow of the screen the sound of my fingers striking every key. Once again slumber has abandoned me; but like many unpleasant things in my life I have grown use to the experience and it no longer vexes me. I'll be here till it;s ready again to drop in and say hello.

But it serves a purpose, a purpose of which at this moment is unclear, but a purpose all the same. Perhaps it is to tell me that it is time for a return to a different side of me, a side where I continue along my path of growth, learning, writing - back to my path of enlightenment. A new day dawns, as does the new year and it is time I rediscover me...

5 o'clock in the morning

Cerebral hemorrhaging of negative manifestations, projections of the unknown, self constructed destruction of the constructs of matter and materialized brain waves; irritants to my conscious disposition resulting in the disturbance of my sub-conscious.

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.