Careful steps I walk with. I roam around dangerous territory, I pick up speed, barefoot I run stepping on egg shells. Bleeding I push forward, constantly glancing back, my hair whipping my face, steam evaporating from my skin. I’m running out of air, my strength is dying, I keep pushing with a panicked brain, thoughts running through my mind faster than light. I let myself stop at the edge of my desires, float in the air as the wind cools me down.
I see him, broad shoulders, dark gaze, almost evil like, yet seductive. His ice blue eyes freezes the drops of sweat on me. From a far he releases my soul and we dance to a never ending night. The stars shinning. I’m where I first started, trying to gain my conscience back. I struggle within my own body. My system refusing to give out. I close my eyes and inhale his life. Open my eyes to cobblestones, bleeding I’m running once again. This torture seems never ending, burning from within, caging me in its thoughts.
Step after step I relive all, yet somehow, my foot slips and in his arms I fall into. His touch burns my skin, raising higher flames within me and the silence is broken. Our bodies start moving in complete harmony, dancing, teasing each other. An erotic dance that we had mastered in another life time. I feel my heart about to burst. I can feel him shaking, too scared to do me wrong.
Never knowing blood can flow like this. A sense of freedom takes over. Never knew how alive one can feel in the shadows of their own sins. Pleasure heightened to another level of yearning as my neck wakes up to the warmth of his lips tracing my existence. WE fold into one, as though we’re demons in the sky tasting full freedom. Swimming in complete lust as we sculpt each others bodies.
I keep searching, looking for something that i have no clue about. Yet i keep trying to find sth for the void within me. That only music seems to fill with its poetic notes. Then i jus want to be swayed i want to be free to break all my chains n dance. I want to float, twist and spin with such ease as though I was the center of serenity.
As you stand among your heroic air, do you feel superior? Does the shield you hold make you feel untouchable? Maybe because there is no reflection on your shield you don’t see the monster you have become. Does our hate not pierce through the transparency? I keep observing you, keep trying to understand, but I’m at a lost of words for the inhumane nature within you. Do you tear gas your kids for having opposing ideas to what you claim to be defending? You no longer represent safety to anyone, and you don’t even seem to comprehend what a big loss that is for our nation.
Do you look into the mirror in the mornings and reassure yourself that you are helping humanity? If so, our understandings of reality is completely flawed.
Do you feel like god when you shoot canisters of gas at your own people? Are you that blinded that you don’t see how destructive you have become? When you shoot your plastic bullets, do you ever wonder how right your actions are? Do you question your motivations, your actions?
Do the lives you have taken haunt you? Or do they feel like bonuses you have won along the way to survival?
The terror you create, you don’t own up to. The damage you produce, you don’t own up to. But most importantly, you ignore the souls you have taken, with no remorse and add more names.
The righteousness you posses one day will drown you. You will lose your super hero powers, and be seen as what you truly are. Nightmares, monsters, inhumane.
So run around now, creating terror on the streets, winning points and destroying freedom. But the more dark clouds you create, the more rain we’ll pour on you. Till you can swim in your sins and pray to be cleansed.
Woman of ages 25+ seem to lost the excitement in their life. I truly wonder about the reason behind this. For I too have been longing for excitement for far too long. Just today a happily married lady told me she thought of calling her ex jus to feel some sort of excitement. Not that she would but it amazes me that our brain thinks up these crazy ideas, ideas that could create so much drama, jus for a thrill.
Excitement, seems to be what we lose as our digits get bigger. What excitement for an old person? To hold a new born baby, or be able to walk around the neighborhood once more. What is excitement for a kid? A new toy, or going to an amusement park? What is excitement for adults? Love, new gadgets, new job, achievements? What true excitement do we miss and what excitement have we lost? Women around me still talk about love and their feelings about daily things. It amazes me to see how little things have really changed since my teenage years. Maybe the subjects and matters of love have matured, but the topics still lie in the same areas. But excitement, seems to be the core of our happiness at times, gives us a push a shove to enjoy the moment, day, seconds.
But when I really think about it hard, I honestly wonder what excitement is to a dying person…
That moment when the music stops and you think of what a fool you’ve been. Starring into the eyes of judgement, so heavy that the floor slips beneath your feet. You wonder how they find the righteousness for their thoughts, their ideas. Who do they think they are to belittle anything you feel. Your walls start growing tall, your head spins. Your emotions poured into a mixer. What was the point of sharing or even trying to bond, when the receiver is closed to anything else but what it likes to comprehend of others.
There used to be a man within you that I’m inlove with. I see parts of him reflect out of you, but its little bits of pieces that even if put together, doesn’t make a whole. In your ashes I search for the soul that calls for me, but there are only remainders of what was. You’ve combusted within your body to protect yourself, to feel and want nothing. Yet, you’ve only chained and barbed you, and silently it bleeds to feel to become whole. Yet sadly, you’re so blinded by fear, fear to trust, fear to let someone in, fear to let yourself truly be. And still, to me you’re perfectly broken in dark shades of me.
Life being a constant existence, a purity of thought, a weakness of the soul. A hallucination of oneself. Fiddling with reality. Creating masterpieces of dreams drowning in Ego, reflecting narcissism.
Life with all its beauty and damage chips at our innocence. Molds us into statuses and for everything a collection of stamps are taken out.
Life haven already been liven, has its own set of rules that forces you to abide by. Anything less, you’re faced with consequences to burden you down. Out casting you to lie in your cold grave questioning all you know.
Life, a never ending solitude, drives you to the idea of loneliness. Yet we all are connected by strings of being. A cycle of similar things repeating in co-relation. How you live it is all up to you. Yet the same none the less.
Life is made of our energy.
You dwell within my spirituality as you glisten with your Bosphorus.You leave me speechless with your unspoken beauty.
As you give off tons of hope you rip out joy with the your contaminated air I inhale. You provide an abyss of imagination with your mesmerizing lay out.
Your wind combined with your features is reviving. I can understand how you’re a dream; you resemble all that is sinful dressed with naive attractiveness. Your streets are marred with memories, that you probably console yourself with.
You’re the root of all disappointments. You’re so imperfectly balanced that makes insanity appear as nothing
and yet your destructibility is breath taking.
I have visions of visitng your grave and saying all that I have held inside to a cold stone…for the stone would understand a lot more than you do now. But as I envision and play with the thought, my heart aches and my soul shivers. Laying you in wet soil, wet because it must rain on the day you leave, for the angels must cry for such love that could never warm hearts eternally. The idea burdens me with all that never was spoken, closures we never got, scars that were never healed. I realize now that when that day comes I will lose a part of my sanity. What would I do with all that you gave me, all that you taught me, and to never explain my reasons, to reconcile with you to mend one another. To prove to you that all along when u seeked for unconditional love, you already and always had it? And maybe I do have it from you, but you package it so thick that the feeling is lost in the message. You are not the only one to blame. There was a time that I was the devil itself, but a teenager does that when dreams are shattered. I have put my demons to rest long ago, but my scars bleed everytime you scratch. When will you put your demons to rest, before its too late for us to truly love one another?
All these love songs these chick flicks, if not real then why sell it? To create minds who will never be satisfied with what is? Love songs that pull at your heart strings, scenes of movies that take your breath away. Wanting to hold on to the feeling, imagining scenes to make up for the lack of romance. Commercializing love as it is not, filling our minds with things that most can not give us. Maybe chick flicks is just an extended version of walt disney. And the songs are what makes all those scenes hit home.
Are people really not trying to give a little or do we hope for more for no good reason? Most deny another’s reality of love and appreciation, is it because there are alterating realities of perception or is it wisdom of defeat and harsh reality? How wrong could trying be.. to put another above onself to let go of who you are to create another, to be considerate and share a created world, rather than vacationing at someone’s world. To lose all baggages and be free of it all.
Or maybe I am the only one who can’t see true colors