Inspiration

You make me feel like a sticky pistil
Leaning into her stamen.
You make me feel like Mr. Sunshine himself.
You make me feel like splendor in the grass where we're rolling
Dance with me baby
You make me feel like the Amazon's running between my thighs.

You make me feel love, love, love, love, love
love, love, love, love, love
You make me feel love, love, love, love, love
love, love, love, love

You make me feel like a candy apple; red and horny
You make me feel like I want to be a dumb blonde
In a centerfold, the girl next door.
And I would open the door and I'd be all wet
With my tits soaking through this tiny little t-shirt that I'm wearing
And you would open the door and tie me up to the bed.

You make me feel love, love, love, love, love
love, love, love, love, love
You make me feel love, love, love, love, love
love, love, love, love

Lover, I don't know who I am.
Am I Barry White - am I Isis?
Oooo
Lover I'm laced with your unconscious,
I will be your Desdemona

You make me feel, ohhh
You make me feel, woowoo baby
You make me feel, ahhh
You make me feel, oh, oh, ah, ah, oh, oh...

Mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it.
A kiss can be even deadlier if you mean it.

Attraction. That instant when your attention is completely captured by another. Your eyes lock and everything else in the room is still. Muffled.
Think of every war movie you've seen where they have that one seen where the character is shell shocked. You can still see the horror of battle going on; bodies flying, bombs exploding, shrapnel catapulting through the air - chaos incarnate. But there's only that muted shush sound the ocean makes.

The seconds that expand in that instant you look at me could compose and eradicate a thousand universes. My breathing stops. My pulse races. Every muscle in my body tenses. Adrenaline burns a mainline, cranking the beat of my heart to a slamfest-escape-attempt in my chest. My jaw locks. My knees give.
Have you ever wondered why I only look at you head on when I'm sitting or leaning against something?

Sometimes I hate it. But I'm always wanting more. Burning with the need for that next look. Coiled like a spring tensing a trigger.
I want to throw caution to the wind, corner you and pounce.

I want to bite you.
Hard.

I want to fight you for dominance in a quest as thoroughly exhilarating as it is exasperating.

I want to explore you like a pioneer on a new world, with teeth as sharp as my intellect.


I want to let it slip how you can
seduce
dominate
overthrow
Me.


Beauty is not applicable to the physical appearance
Only the inspiration caused by another.

All That You Love Will Be Carried Away

I can't help that I like to be kissed
And I wouldn't mind if my name changed to Mrs.
This is one side, my conventional side
My attraction to tradition
My vintage disposition
My sincere architecture
And I want to cook him dinner
But I'm more indecisive than ever
And who believes in forever

Who will be the one to marry me?

A girl in the world barking up the wrong tree
A creature conditioned to employ matrimony
Crumbling continuity, I pick up the pieces
The ceremony makes me zealous


As the past quickly ceases
Fear from being neutered
I'm now prude, now defensive
Quickly I'm altered and tempted by new love only rented

Do you believe you'll marry me?
You might be the one to marry me

Back, looking back, looking back at me
I'm not how I used to be
Take me back, take me back into history
Diamond ring, tie me down, just like it used to be

Who will be the one to marry me?
Who will be the one to marry me?

I think about marriage sometimes. Well, I suppose "think about" is too broad a statement. I puzzle over. I have never understood the thought of committing yourself to just one person. Perhaps this is the result of the general applications I find indulged by others with the monogamous mindset. Like fucking mindless pod zombies. I want to take them and break their face in for it.

Do not get me wrong, I am all for being together forever if that is the Butter on your Toast; but, Seriously? And it is not that I do not want be accompanied. I just... I am not sure if I could commit solely to one person. This is not to say that I will never get married, or that I will never find someone - just one - who completes me so infinitely that I cannot bring myself to see any other; but, the likelihood of that happening is about as probable as my winning the lottery this Saturday.
Not. Fucking. Likely.

I think in the end it boils down to a point made infamous by Stephen King: "...according to at least one source I've read recently, all that you love will be carried away." Even if you stay together - it's not going to be forever. At least not with the terms people en mass use. It's only until this body expires - and quite frankly I find that fact so distastefully disgusting as to nearly acquiesce to the immediate urge to vomit. I don't want your cheap tokens crafted to portray a grossly defiled and corrupt emotion you attempt to pawn off as Love. When the brutal truth of the matter is most of you wouldn't know actual and true Love if it walked up to you as some bizarre amalgamation of David Carradine and Chuck Norris and Kung Fu kicked you in the jollies.

And how can you love someone when you don't even know who they are!?! You go based on the window dressing - and you want to know what, Sweetheart? At the age of 80 - man or woman - damn near EVERYONE ends up looking like Merle Fucking Haggard at best, and that creepy german Nosferatu at worst. Superficial packet of fucks. I have never, in my entire life, ever once thought someone suitable or even attractive based merely on their appearance. Now, do not let that statement confuse you. I said Attractive - not physically appealing. Tasty monkeys are just that: Eye Candy. They make your eyes happy and might fill your imaginations with entertaining thoughts.
Attraction is another game entirely.
Attraction is to Tasty Monkeys what Symphonies are to Wretching Sounds. Oh, they're both sounds all right - but how many hours can you spend listening to someone vomit?
And honestly, eye candy should remain just that - 19x out of 20. Because that is how often they prove to disappoint you. "No no no, don't talk. You talk - and you'll just fuck eeeeeverything up. Quiet time, yes, quiet time. No talkies. Noooo. Bad. Talking baaad." Eye candy should be treated like statues: you stand there and collect dust, and I'll let you know if it's ok for you too sneeze - and might I recommend holding your breath?

Everyone at some point is lonely. My moments are blissfully short, generally passing with a rueful sullenness without destroying my moment or even day. It is a human condition to feel isolated. We evolved as pack animals, and in this modern day with the supreme isolation technology provides our souls are hungering for that lost connection.
Someone told me you can figure out how affection-starved someone is by how many novels someone has. Fiction being a form of escapism and escapism popular with those who feel the need to connect more strongly than those they find themselves surrounded by.
I often wonder if this is a thought they themselves had or if the topic itself was the product of some research that they stumbled upon in their search of information for class. I would greatly like to read about this.

Sleeping With Ghosts

Well when you go
Don't ever think I'll make you try to stay,
And maybe when you get back,
I'll be off,
To find another way

When after all this time that you still owe
You're still a good-for-nothing I don't know,
So take your gloves and get out,
Baby get out
While you can

When you go
And would you even turn to say,
I don't love you like I did yesterday

Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading
So sick and tired of all the needless beating,
But baby when they knock you down and out
Is where you oughta stay

And after all the blood that you still owe
Another time was just another blow
So fix your eyes and get up
Baby, get up
While you can

When you go
And would you even turn to say
I don't love you like I did yesterday

Well come on, come on

When you go
Would you have the guts to say
I don't love you like I loved you yesterday

I don't love you
Like I loved you
Yesterday

I don't love you
Like I loved you
Yesterday

I miss you. I wonder what you're doing now. And I am not sad about our past or how we split apart. Well sometimes, I am sad. When I wonder why you could not be stronger. Or why you always felt the need for someone else to complete you.
I keep dreaming about you. And psychology will tell you that the people in your dreams are only those you recognize so that your mind doesn't wake fitfully, or something along those lines. But the missing you is real. And it's there squeezing me tight in the mornings. An achy hollow tightness that makes breathing hurt. I think I took for granted the fact that you would always be with me. Always a part of my life.

That's my fault. I am like that. I incorporate my friends into a relationship more akin to something like family members. I love them and trust them blindly. Even as I boast and claim not to care. I do.
The end of a friendship is always like a death in my family. Actually, worse. I am quite resilient to losing actual relations - perhaps a by-product of my dubious family history...
Like pets. I would say it is closest to the emptiness I feel when losing a pet. For me, I foster a kind of mother-alligator relationship with my friends. Oh, I will love you fiercer than a mother bear; but if you cross my ass you can bet yours I'm going to pound it. In general, the more I hit you - the more I love you.
But I digress...


I miss you much it is physically hurting me.
I suppose everyone ends up sleeping with ghosts at some point...

Hugs Are Zen

And the Earth spins round
While the people fall down
And the world stands still
Not a sound, not a sound
There is love, there is love
To be found
In the worst way, in the worst way
In the worst way

It’s the buzz, it’s the buzz
It’s the buzz
It’s the buzz, it’s the buzz
I wish I was
It’s the buzz, it’s the buzz
It’s the most fuzz

From a little shell
At the bottom of the sea
Was the Earth and the Moon
And the Sun above me
But the world fell down
With some people still around
There is love, there is love
To be found
With the Gods all gone
And the souls making sounds

In the worst way, in the worst way
In the worst way
It’s the buzz, it’s the buzz
It’s the buzz
It’s the buzz, it’s the buzz
I wish I was
It’s the buzz, it’s the buzz
It’s the most fuzz

From a little shell
At the bottom of the sea
Was the Earth and the Moon
And the Sun around me
There is love, there is love
There is love
It’s a buzz, it’s a buzz
It’s a buzz
It’s the buzz, it’s the buzz
I wish I was
It’s a buzz, it’s a buzz
It’s a buzz

I crave affection. Mass. Amounts. You're thinking Big Gulp, I'm thinking Ocean.
Not attention.
I do not need your entire being devoted to me. I don't want all your time, energy, effort or emotions.

I just need you to touch me. Not hug, cuddle, kiss, fuck, bite, fight, prod, etc. Just the connection of casual contact. I am happiest the most when such employed. I don't care if it is just the touch our legs might share as we sit together on the couch. And I don't need you to be my lover.
I am a kitty, and we kitties loooooooove the affection. Oh we feign indifference and pretend we don't care. But we are thoroughly profound and adept actors.

My happiest moments are when sitting near my friends and they just lean into me. Casual. Affectionate. I need this. I need to be close to someone. Especially those I love. I have been labeled as very flirtatious because of this, and quite frankly my dear - I don't give a damn.
I am a misanthrope. We don't befriend you. We adopt your sorry ass! Some of us find it necessary to function only within the small family unit we build - a kithkin relationship. Others like to acquire and nurture the family unit, but also seek to find others for suitable amounts of entertainment. I try to keep my "kittens" touchy-feely - or at least accustomed to random accosts by me.

I will take my affection anyway I can get it. Weather it be in subjugating myself to someone's footwarmer or on the receiving end of a shove. You can smack me, pinch me, poke me, stab me, bite me, kiss me, breathe me in, sit on me, sit with me, touch me, stroke me, draw on me, wash my hair, brush my hair, scratch my head, tickle me, squish my face, poke my nose, twist my arm, hold my hand, trace my scars - most any kind of contact is generally welcomed.
The best are form of affection; however, would most definitely have to be the hug. It is the most amazing thing I think I have ever been subjected to. You don't even need arms to hug. It is that freakin' awesome. Perhaps the best quote I have ever heard about hugs:

"As his arms went around her, she wondered how much of the human race understood about hugging - how good it was, and how a person could want to do it for hours on end. She supposed some did understand, but doubted that they were in the majority. To fully understand about hugging, maybe you had to have missed a lot of it."
Stephen King, Rose Madder, Page 387

Hugs are zen.

Without You I'm Nothing At All

Strange infatuation seems to grace the evening tide
I'll take it by your side
Such imagination seems to help the feeling slide
I'll take it by your side
Instant correlation sucks and breeds a pack of lies
I'll take it by your side
Oversaturation curls the skin and tans the hide
I'll take it by your side

Tick tock
Tick tock
Tick tick
Tick
Tick
Tick tock

I'm unclean, a libertine
And every time you vent your spleen
I seem to lose the power of speech
You're slipping slowly from my reach
You grow me like an evergreen
You've never seen the lonely me at all

I
Take the plan, spin it sideways
I
Fall
Without you I'm nothing
Without you I'm nothing
Without you I'm nothing
Take the plan, spin it sideways
Without you I'm nothing at all

Sometimes I think I want a love that lasts forever. And I cannot help but laugh at myself. Perhaps the notion is too feminine. Or merely too childish.

Maybe it's just the fear.
The fact that I am too afraid of losing who I am, who I've fought so hard to be.

I think it's the late hours. That time of night when the moon calls me hard, and I can feel the tide rushing with the blood in my veins.

I want to find something to blame it on. But there is only me. And I know it. A fact that although I am wholly myself I still feel incomplete. And I'm not too sure what it is that is missing, I only know the wound is there and it's bleeding me out. I am tired of fruitless expectations. I am tired of myself.
I. Need. ?

I'd break my right arm to figure it out. A prospect that is as horrifying as it is the truth.

I hate this feeling and the way it creeps up on me. No matter what I'm doing, enjoying; it's just suddenly there and it's everywhere and I feel as though I'm drowning, suffocating, imploding in on myself. With no reason. No cause.
Hunker down further, because this is going to end badly.
With no end is sight, that's all I can hope for...

Suicide

Every night
You wrote another line
With a bloody, broken, bottle
And every day
You wish it away
Why don't you pull the pin
On that grenade
You cuddle

I wanted to believe
Bodies swinging from trees
Struggling to stand
With your head in your hands
A stoic last stand
Of a dying man

I wanted to believe
As I watched your world
Crumble in your hands
I wanted to believe
As you raised your glass
To your last stand
And I wanted to believe
You would win
The war in your head
That I did not understand...
I did not understand...

Every night
The questions poured out
Of your wounded eyes
Damn dark things
Every day
You used to pray
Listen to the black raven sing
You wanted to believe
As you were falling to your knees
Struggling to stand
With your life in your hand
The sad last stand
Of a broken man

I wanted to believe
As I watched your world
Crumble in your hands
I wanted to believe
As you raised your glass
To your last stand
And I wanted to believe
You would win
The war in your head
That I did not understand...
I did not understand...

I wanted to believe
As I watched your world
Crumble in your hands
I wanted to believe
As you raised your glass
To your last stand
I wanted to believe
You would win
The war in your head
That I did not understand
I did not understand

And the questions poured out
And the questions pour out
I did not understand
I did not understand
I did not understand
I did not understand
The sound of you falling
I did not understand
As the trembling heart of a dying man
Did not understand
The sound of a trembling heart

I wonder why there is such stigma with suicide. Or with death in general. I often think about killing myself. And it's not that I am unhappy - because I am in fact Happy. I really like my life and who I am - and don't get me wrong it seems to be going on a bender hard and fast. However, above all things, I know who I am. And I don't worry. Something that seems to be swiftly maddening to those whom I choose to surround myself with. Especially my kittens.

I don't know. Sometimes it just seems that Death is the last Great Adventure I have waiting for me.

I am in Need of an adventure.

So desperately so that when I think of it I cannot breathe and my body is frozen in some silent prison, shaking with the need to explode violently into it.

Perhaps it's not my suicide that's bizarre. But the fact that when I picture it, I'm never caught. If I'm found at all. Sometimes I think I'll just wink out like a star, silent and lost among the thousands that capture your eyes. Overlooked or maybe misplaced and forgotten. And while I think I should feel sad at being forgotten, I rarely am. At worst I'm empty and at best I'm amused. But never sad. Never down.

Maybe it's because I believe that I will be here long after this body and earth has gone from existence. That I am me because I am the soul, the god I have spent so long looking for. I am the burning need that gets me through the bad days, and lifts me to flight on the good.

Empty because I don't need you.

Amused because I loved you and wanted you with me regardless of your concerns.

I don't need you. Any of you. And that should mean something great to you. Something wonderful and fantastic. Because you shouldn't need me either. Ferociously Independent. I want to be like the sea. Like the earth. Completely capable of severing you from myself at any and all costs.

So you will know how precious it is that

I Want You

REFUSE

i've got it all on my mind exploding in a million different directions at once i felt that all things should perish, little deaths, for their little lives. twitchy keys twitch fingers, they itch and scamper silly little whispers of words stuck in my mind they keep me up at night and i'm afraid to sleep or sleep alone and sometimes these things are idle in their moods - tiny torrents of great gasping floods and it is all too much to bear. brr. bera. burrow. burn. bark. parka. you won't get it you refuse to understand. and THAT IS NOT FINE. i'm tired of explaining and aggravated with you and i want to run away because i am aggravated with myself. and i want to tell you what i mean but sometimes i don't know it. there is so much in here is another brick. this prison gets higher every time i turn around around around the way. some sorrow filled nights and the loneliness is creeping in. i want to strangle her with those satin laces. the ones i keep hidden from myself in the tiny crevices of places i dare not go for fear of loss of self control. ov. of. oven. burn. fires fires all around and here's the cross to put me on, i made sure those nails were rusty. god give me tetnus. lock jaw. wired shut. these rules of yours have already bound me. made me a wicked beast - one you'd sooner fear than love. and i want to rip your fucking heart out for it. i hate your slackjawed nature. your flippance. your lack of humanity. i am staring at you again. but it's only to see if you have a soul. or to memorize the lines you make. but it's not because i care, you're too frustrating. you suck the life out of everything. god damned leeches. human - people is the same as vampire - leeches. not that you'd know. you wouldn't know anything - but oh how you know everything. i'm lost again. but happier for it. but lost from what i want and need. i know the difference between your empty food and am hungry for actual fare. stuck stuck stuck. cannot find the shovel to dig myself out of this hole. DIG ME OUT. i'm shouting. screaming. calling. screeching. howling. I NEED MORE WORDS!! there is not enough of this. and where are you when i need you. in these late hours, these hours, the only time i am __insert whatever word you'd like here__. not that you'd know any good ones. ones. once. bitter. i am bitter here. and cold. and lost and stuck. i cannot - i do not - i am unable - i am

nothing Nothing NOTHING just not good enough just not well well welcome over and come inside i have some dreams and they're selling cheap trick clever trick you almost YOU'RE AN ALMOST and i i laugh hysterical hyster womb shredded home all is lost and long forgotten burn wander these empty hallways adn there is no punctuation, doesn't that just drive you mad MAD mad mad mad mad angry i shall strive strike stick street steam stream stem lest lost love never meant to make you wonderful bastard and how these things they come together right now olly olly oxenfree spelling, we don't need your grammar you nazi sucking the life out. suck vacuum YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE? hahahahaha i want to shread snarl sharp furious claws raking down carving paths through flesh one scar two scar three scar MEMORY

i'm going to break them these damn fingers but first i'll rip the nails out slowly one bed at a time and sleep is too far gone and i will never lie down again i am a liar i am a theif and i want to steal every moment you are awake i want to climb inside that head of yours cover myself in your mind i want to know what you think inside there behind those eyes i see in i drown in i want those eyes i want what they're hiding I WANT YOU to know what i'm thinking to see how i see the world to find an interesting thought in me to inspire me to comfort me to strangle me to drive me and i am tracking you, keeping careful observance of your moves you wicked deeds those shadows you spin when no one is looking, i see how you think but not what it is i want to breathe you in INHALE suppression, supressed super supper drown down watership suffocate you fucking rabbits and i'm drowning in these thoughts of you and without you how lost can we be

CAN'T YOU HEAR ME

how hard do i have to cry how loud how long ever notice how easy it is to skin yourself do you know what you look like beneath i do i have found exactly how my muscles move flesh free to be me and i am secure and i know no matter how hard this gets i am stronger but i am tired of putting up with you ever have a conversation with numerous people but you are only making a single statement running out of time running running running you should be running

it's all coming down