Her luscious skin I dreamed
Akin to roses' soft whistle
  Shying away,
        The moonlight reflection that streamed
Away all doubts in life
I loved her, I adored
        The lively fabric of simplicity
Everything felt with her
  Gave me hope
       Gave me lust
            Gave me peace
My idiocy is turned into genius
    by her,
         by her alone

-Elliot J.

Livid and frightened
Of what might be
Seldom perverted
Or enlightened
By the reality that sets you free
For as no one ever walks
The dire phrases
Whispered in vain
All these Everlasting
Utopian talks
Lead to Spectacular
Undying pain.

Elliot J.

I entered.
SaD Down.

It was comfortable, the stability of dark oak wood combined with the comfort of warm goose feathers, paradoxically contradicting my state of mind.

'Please tell me what kind of person I am.
Tell me what you see, what you can deduce.
I even brought you a list of what futures I consider.
Deduce from this list or from all else what describes me, what virtues refine me, which vices limit me.
But please,  restrain from embarassing me by asking myself for I do not know the answer.'

-Can you Induce where I am or Deduce where I should be?
                                              Please tell me. You simply do not know.-

There is a big picture present of something desired.
Don’t know where or how to get there.
There is a certainty that I am wrong and that it has all been wrongly wired.
Journeys and maps blurred but the destination I believe is clear.

There has been time wasted.
Of this I am sure.
There has been insignificance overrated.
And now I have to endure.

There will be laughter.
In the close future certainty is set.
There will be rejections as if I am some kind of imposter.
Will I be able to follow through on the bet.

There can be beauty in the long run.
But I have fear of the road.
There is an image brightened and blinded by rays of sun.
If the house wins who will be the scapegoat.

All I know is I have to do something.
Get things done.
Otherwise it will all have been for nothing.
And might as well end it with a gun.

I struggle with reality
With the castle upon the hill
I struggle with vitality
With the turning of the mill

I struggle with myself
With the imagination
I struggle with written truths on the shelf
With the constant creation

I do not know what to choose
It all appeals to me
I do not know what there is to lose
Please let me see

Elliot J.