Sunday, March 22, 2015

Now, I will sleep.

Pretty slumber
How I would long for it
Insomnia engulfed me in your absence
I was walking dead
I was fidgeting in a coma
It feels silly now.

You, are a drag my friend.

Let me catch up on my sleep.


It is what your words did to me.
You poet, you spoke to my heart.
You spoke to my spirit.

Can they blame me?
Every word from you mouth
Was a peak of pleasure
I am moaning and surrendering,
with every sentence.

You poet, you didn't have to be here
in flesh, bone, blood or spirit
They're all here
Slowly swiveling into reality
as we talk
Your face materializes before me
and I follow
with my passion,
becoming one with your glory

You find me on my knees,
as you talk me into submission.

Thin love

I haven't written in a really long time. I don't think anyone even stops by anymore.
But my page views have increased since the last time I signed in, so some people do come around.
Thanks for that!

Its not that I haven't tried to write. I have. It's more like, there is little that's left to write about.
I wrote of love. Simple, unconditional love.
But once you have seen it's different forms, its hard to believe it can ever be simple again.

I suppose, that this blog will have to exist just as a reminder of the person I used to be. A hopeful, beautiful person. I believed in things, I like to think I still do. But the truth is, I have changed.
In the past 2 years, my imagination has gone from pretty to extremely grotesque. Love has metamorphosed, and now sits inside me, extremely frail and whimsical. It's not real, but more of a lingering shadow of something that was too innocent to survive. It's the only form of love that can remain in a self-destructive self.

Its a form of love that's quite pitiable, pathetic, and heart breaking.

Its a form of love that's very sad, and survives primarily on the prayer of resurrection.

Its a twisted, wretched form of love.

Thin love. That's what I like to call it.