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657 · Apr 2016
Cotton
CJ M Apr 2016
My skin is soft and my mind unexperienced.
Like cotton right off the stem.
And when animosity hits it, I tend to be unprepared for such topics.

My body goes through constant cycles of supposed purification
Like the separation of the cotton from its seed and the bleaching of its fruit.
So when I realize my impurity, I tend to reject myself. For I feel that others would anyways.

My blood runs through my organs, and is altered in my heart
Like cotton being twisted to threads.
I crystalize like cane sugar as it drips off its heat made daggers, and I crush to dust under the weight of every decision that I make.
I was asked to do this, but I got on it late, so this is going to be an excerpt
648 · Nov 2015
Vent #6
CJ M Nov 2015
I have no secret agenda. And for that, people feel bad for me.
I’m still in my gentleman’s valence, and for that, women feel sad for me.
I don’t keep grave secrets lest a grave robber dig up my past and show the skeletons as if they were fresh details rather than a forcefully faded memory.
I wear my glasses, freshly cleaned for better sight, and yet I still can’t see.
I can’t see what everybody else sees. To me, I see a nice guy, a guy that’s lucky to have someone who's lucky to have him. And I don’t flaunt this…………. But apparently I’m oblivious of my own visage.
Apparently I’m a creature of pure evil and disgust for the better things of life.
Apparently I’m perverse when I smile at people and apparently I’m old fashion for opening doors for people.
But in all my aspects of supposed incompleteness, I recognize those that judge me as confused souls just the same as me. For one who shows no respect shalt not receive any, and yet I still don’t receive any.
I can’t stand the feeling of love lost, and yet I feel it every day. I feel the emptiness crowding around me as if I were in a trash compactor. Why is it that nice guys finish last when we started the race? Why is it that If I show no respect, I get more respect from the people I wish to earn it from?
Why do women like fuckboi rather than knowledgeable counterpart? Why am I alone in a world where I know for a fact there is someone who thinks like me?
Why do I even care what anyone thinks? Why am I still looking for a love that I’ve professed not to care about? Why is it that even under my circumstances, I could care less about what’s to do about any and every one of my flaws, giving the same belief that love accepts all flaws?
I tell myself to stop sometimes so that I can look at myself, but even when I look in the mirror, I see broken shards of glass appear at my imperfections. And for that, I know what the meaning of change should imply to me.
617 · Feb 2016
Embodiment of curiosity
CJ M Feb 2016
Hush….. can you hear that?
It’s my heartbeats every time she comes close.
I wonder if she can hear it when she passes. I wonder if anyone else can.
When she’s close by, I sense it, I sense an impending nervousness and the calm as we talk.
I wonder can she feel it too.

It’s just something about the way she moves, something about the little details of everything about her, she has me mesmerized whenever our eyes match. Hard to imagine the images that appear in my mind when our eyes lock, and I always see her. When they replay in my memory, I understand. For only angels can wear halos.
I wonder what she sees.

There’s something in the air that makes each word she makes as palatable as ginger ale. Her voice is so mellifluous that it makes my spirit hunger for emotional stimulation. I imagine long talks in sunset milieus. I imagine deeper conversations that I rarely have anymore and crippling displays of imaginative love that I’m not even sure I’d be able to provide. But with every thought, the air gets sweeter with released thoughts.
I wonder if she tastes it too.

Green apple goddess, cherry cheeks of cherished charms, her flavors speak of delicious intimacy. We constantly contrast in such distinct ways like flavor and spice. Her graceful decadence contrasting with my cinnamon smile and cayenne complements.
I wonder if she identifies the fragrance.

She is a tease to my brain and a testament to my imaginative nature, but I’d love to toy with her senses the way she toys with mine. Sending her brain racking the walls of  consciousness trying to categorize me based on those she’s known. Yet our individual uniqueness’s make us stick out to one another. I ponder her intentions, as pure as they seem, and I always get the same idea. The Idea that she’s the embodiment of me.
The embodiment of my curiosity.
608 · May 2015
Spirit
CJ M May 2015
Shocks of pain haven’t the slightest effect on me, You’re the cure to the pains I’ve felt. You’re the one who clears my mind like the backspace clears Microsoft pages. Simple as you are, you solve complexities that the common world can’t handle.
I was lonely once, I had a gap in my chest that wasn’t filled easy, in fact, no mortal could fill it. Only you could, a queen, a goddess I had called you. And you didn’t disappoint, you held out untl the end of the war of hearts, and I’m in love with you for it.
Yet we don’t move, we stay in the same position as we always have, lovers, loves. When can we move on?
I was thinking marriage, you were thinking Quickie. I was thinking whole-hearted love, you were thinking child-like intimacy. But We’ve met at a new point, the point that I knew was an inevitable circumstantial element.
Destruction.
Look at what you’ve turned me into , look at my words and imagine the heat behind them. Look into the lines of my words and imagine them as my eyes. They’re filled with the tears of the lies you had put into my ears. The hopes that you hyped me up to. The stories that you concocted to blind me from your true self.
You were love.
That emotion that I had blindly chased after in hopes that I’d achieve it.  You lied. You told me all I wanted to hear in exchange for me to give my life to you, the emotion that has inspired many a war.
I tried to refuse you, for I hadn’t felt you much. I just wanted to feel special to someone, special to anything other than myself, and you couldn’t do that for me. You didn’t keep your promise, in fact, you destroyed my faith in the world.
Poem after poem I wrote about it, about you, Yet you still disperse with every setup you create, stop toying with me, Fight like you’re supposed to . Stop throwing sand and running, you hurt only yourself.
My soul is crushed, heart stomped on by the boots of thousands, tears absorbed by the thirsty lips of millions, skin digested by the hunger of those now sated. I did this for you, and I do it no more.
No more shall I spend my time, wallowing, wonting to your abusive nature. I spend more time thinking of ou than I do thinking of my own life. You bring my soul to an ache, my eyes to an overflow, my head to a crippling pain and my body to the ground, toppling like a tower struck from the bottom.
Now do you feel my pain? Do you see the internal struggle you’ve caused me? Do you feel the emotion in the mere words I utter? Do you gaze at the water raining over the fire in my eyes? Do you see the physical decay of my form? The form that was set up for love and loving? I’m hurting, I can’t stress that to you enough. My body’s failing me, I’m dying inside and out, and the cause, I think you know now, is You…
Yours truly,

   A wrecked and ravaged spirit.
604 · Feb 2016
Praying for time
CJ M Feb 2016
It’s like my life flashes before I can grip it
I think too much about what I try to say, and always end up messing my words up.
I can’t fix it. It’s grown on my
Growth
A product of time.
A sapling is born in a soul, that soul is tormented and the sapling struggles for life.
But the sapling endures in the freezing temperatures.
It knows it will blossom to become a true self-revelation.
When will this sapling become a tree?
Only time will tell
597 · Jan 2016
Southern Child
CJ M Jan 2016
So young and wild, she’s a southern child.
Her heart of expression and her smile of the sky.
I can’t tell you my luck just to be her guy.
I’m so lonely without her that I can’t deny.
And if she isn’t pleased, I will find out why.

His love is liken to hers: infinite, never wasting.
A flavor I savor steady at tasting.
His Love is desired, but who shall give it to who?
He holds it tight, so none may have it, but there’s access for you.

Decadent, delicious dark desire with a warm taste, it’s love.
The main ingredient in the mix, the best that I know of.
Fun and fuzzy feelings of fantasy, she spoils a heart in truth.
And it makes me think of how it would be if we were still together in youth.

Wet and warm, a quiet storm, no rains, but sound is mild.
So soft and sweet, so young and wild, by god, she’s a southern child.
586 · Mar 2016
Hit The Road
CJ M Mar 2016
Yet again I sit on the cold floor, in the dark
And I fill my head in darkness.

But I’m at peace with the loneliness.
In fact it fuels me, gassing me like cars before a long journey into the abyss of loneliness.

And I think it’s time I hit the road.
566 · Jul 2015
a short one
CJ M Jul 2015
Cherry candied buttercup beauty, the only word used to describe you. Sugar blossomed to perfection and throwing a brain askew.
Titilating body, from your head to your pretty toes. Makes somebody fantasize about what it is under your clothes.
Pretty words yet broken heart, too many lovers near *******. When in public all you get is a sense of gymnophoria.
Yet I'm still here, ready for love, I am a bomb, so defuse me. Yet no matter how much I love love you, you never cease to refuse me.

-thepoeticjustice
CJ M Jan 2016
Every time we talk, this cherry child has me hypnotized
Empty eyes and beautiful voice has my mind tingling
Itching like my palms.

Every time she comes in the room, the air gets colder
Leopard-skin lover with a pompous soul and a vicious need for attention
I am her mediator, showing the love she desires and cutting through previous facades
Calming like my kisses.

Every time we lock eyes, this being of wonder gets me star-struck
Woman of wonderlust, being of beauty with hips so vibrant as to cause movement
Dancing like my footfalls.

Sensuous beauty with the world on her back and a lot on her mind
Sitting on child swings like kindergarteners and just thinking of her past lives
I place my hands over yours as I guide you through the air with each push
Swinging like my fingertips.

Crazy as it is I’ve made no choices, as the loves I’ve felt were real
But there’s something about helping a person who is down
Deep conversation turned theory on love turned burden upon burden’s release
And when all is said and all is done, there’s nothing left to do but listen to the music of us two.
Sitting on the swings listening to the rhythm of the air, my love, I must choose you.
For no other can offer the sweet satisfaction of watching a young bird soar through the skies and be her wings, no other can offer the kiss of one who’s done it least, no other can show such truth.
So I’ll always cherish those talks on the swing-set and the problems uncovered as we chatted the day to dusk.
Steady pushing you higher and higher, letting you escape the hell and tears and lifting you.
Ever Swinging like my fingertips
When I saw the word "Swinging", I was instantly taken aback, so I just had to Express this one, madly love with expression once more
560 · Aug 2015
Soon
CJ M Aug 2015
Is it the thoughts? is it the fact that I can see you in my head when I'm not trying to think at all?
Is it the fact that I know you, but don't understand the concept of you?
If not, then what is it that has me thinking about you?
I can see only what my eyes broadcast, and yet, I can only see your face, I can only hear the beat of your heart as you pass by me, only smell that of the perfume that you wear as a trademark, something I remember you by.
Do you think of these things, about me? Maybe not, but I know you know that you're on my mind.
I want to be your question, I want to be your interest and forever a thought in the back of your brain.
Perhaps I will one day, love, and I pray it's soon.
it was just something I randomly thought of at the library lol
553 · Apr 2016
Alicia
CJ M Apr 2016
Alicia, Alicia
Reminding me of a once blissful time. I wonder if you ever think about it. Living a life of laxity and becoming a being of chill from attitude to soul.
You are so beautiful. You remind me of the possibility of our probability your name a legend in my heart.
I still hear your voice telling me goodbye the first time, just smiling with books in your hand… I never stopped smiling that day.
But only a year later, you left for good. I don’t blame anyone, I understand you had to go.
But I want you to know that I watched you walk out that door. I felt solemnity in that last hug and could taste your tears when I kissed your baby brown cheek.
Alicia, Alicia
Where are you now, baby girl?
What’s on your mind and who do you taunt now?
I must have a problem falling for phantoms, for when I finally open up and show my real personality, she always slips past my numb fingers and away into the dark.
old ones..... Lost in my own mind like a mirror gets lost in its reflection.
540 · Nov 2015
Vent #9
CJ M Nov 2015
The feelings that I once held for her have vanished before my very eyes, all the gooeyness vaporized like steam. I knew it was coming though, I could feel it always ebbing and easing forward like a scorpion on the prowl, but I never expected her to hurt me so badly. I never expected her to be the barer of the elements that brought down my demise.
Who is she?
She is love, or better yet, she is my love. Dressed in naught but a warm smile, seducing me with that smile as she lures me closer and closer to an abyss that only I can fall into. But why? I was so close to her and yet we still had a distance to go, so loving to her and yet she didn’t see it in any aspect.
So here I sit, tears falling down my cheeks like little lava droplets easing down an Ice sculpture, burning heat making it somehow all the way to my chilled core.
None can say where the road can lead, but none can say they know not the destination.
None can say they haven’t known a love though one may not have felt its connection.
But I can say that I’ve felt the loss of it, and I can say its worse than daggers in the gut. I can say that once my heart was lost, there was nothing to fill that empty space and nothing to keep me living. Why did I give her so much power, why did I show her that I was a vulnerable being just waiting on her oppression? Why did I beg the heavens for a love I knew I couldn’t keep?
539 · Jul 2015
Diamond
CJ M Jul 2015
You are my diamond, and my diamond knows my love, as I will forever polish it.
I shall forever keep you safe from harm and thievery, yet it shall be tough, I'll accept the risk.
But once you decide to turn to coal, I shall treat you just as so, baby.
For a diamond is only a stone, but it knows its worth in beauty and statement, and for that,we treat it as if royal.
And if you aren't a diamond, then you're just another rock to me.
-thepoeticjustice
537 · Aug 2015
Creative Expression
CJ M Aug 2015
Generation or creative expression

A mind is a terrible thing to waste according to the wiseman who first said it, but what about a love?
Because now I feel it in the ways that I had forgotten since my last heartbreak whose influence is still stuck on my heart. But you make me forget.
Image dispersed, vision blurred, glasses broken. But I can still see.
You
The only image that makes sense to my distorted senses. The voice to my deaf ears, the cinnamon to my scentless nose, The warm lips of flavor of whom I miss whenever they're away from mine, and the sight...
A lover worthy of my heart, the heart of a god, the loving nature of a goddess, and the rock-solid trust of a soldier at war.
the goal of my movement is to love you. The real you, not the marrionette you throw in my face as a facade to the true you. Open your heart and let me feed on the energy you burn in your ways. For I am a wispering willow and you, my love, the conversation.
I am draconic and you the flame I breath, the heat I create, the fire I make. A recreation of a desperate scramble in which I would gladly partake with you, but be straight forward with me. The bush is beat, not beaten, and I am open to truths.
A shy soul looking for the love of which I want to supply. Redefining love with what we make and showing the sun that its heat is nothing to that of which we let out when we burn our flames.
Flirtatious, a spirit of whom I was and still am. I have a heart though, and that heart is a fragile being of which I am growing, and I know that you can relate. A deeper bond between man and nature that can't be displayed by those around us, only we can produce the image.
A new generation, the thing that you are destined to bring in at the hands of god himself as he blesses you and showers you with the beginnings of a new world order. No destruction, no war, no new inspirations of battle nor struggle, just
Clear
clearer than the very water you drink, clearer than the air you breathe and the sounds that breech your eardrum. Clearer than the mind of the buddhist who has achieved enlightenment, a wide space of idea and philosophies in my mind of which the only answer is Y-O-U.
You
the generational question of which I still cannot answer. The sad song that plays in my mind during the lonely times, the warm bed to my tired soul. It's you, my answer to a major problem in life, the last piece of the puzzle and now I may once again be complete.
My generation, your generation, our generation. The last foundation of a crumbling building, we, the platform of which it stands on and all others following in our footsteps in order to keep themselves afloat in a world steady sinking, sinking, sinking in it's blind shuffle for power. Let us support its heavy weight for all others and hold hands to keep ourselves from going under.
Love, found, once lost, lost once more, and found once more.
It was just a forum vent with storyteller, but I thought "what the heck, why not?" so here it is now as one of my articles
535 · Sep 2015
No stanza
CJ M Sep 2015
I'm ****** like sensuazonia, yet a moral in my own right. Well, to be honest, I don't feel like it. i feel like I'm empty inside, growing more and more so each day. But why? Is there some kind of escape route? Is there some way that I can get away from it? It's consuming my soul at such a rapid pace that even my sprinting soul can't escape like marathon, I must endure like a prisoner of war until my savior arrives, but I don't feel like I have salvation imminent, I feel like I've been stuck in the box so long that I've become it, and now removing that bond with my captivity is harder to break as I rip the cardboard from around me and break the flimsy ***** that keep me pinned in this location for the longest. Where the heck should I go? What the hell should I do? You see, this is what arrives in my mind each time I start my breathing at its regular pace. But then again, what else is there to think about? I could think about the past, but where would that get me? Where would I possible be able to traverse that I haven't traversed when I was experiencing it as present. I miss the past and its people... it's past me, the me that though unwhole, was content with what, and who, he had. I'm alone in the world that I created, how's that for Irony? I can feel the pressure of those wishing to detach me from my reality, their arms reach far, wrapping around my waist in an embrace meant for lovers, but pulling so savagely that I'm forced to do naught but succumb. Hell no, I have to fight, that's who and what I am, but alas, My vent ends now. Brain running drier that the desert's air, dustier than the abyss known as desert sands. I feel empty and now with my words gone, the feeling is even worse.
No stanza
I'm actually under a lot of un-needed stress which annoys me to the point of just babbling what I supposedly "feel". But the truth is that I honestly can't feel now, which is why I'm just babbling
532 · Mar 2016
Single Relationship
CJ M Mar 2016
Single relationship

I told myself that I’d be a complete social chameleon, said I wouldn’t let anyone dictate what I liked.
Turns out they were both lies.
I told myself that I’d love me more than anyone else ever could, I said that my strength would be what ran my environment.
Guess that wasn’t to be.

I itch for a relation but run from relationships.
And I hate it so much that it burns like copper coils.
It invades my lungs like air
and breaks me down like bad *** kids near cardboard boxes.

But for some reason I identify with it now, it’s like, I’m intimate with loneliness.
I can caress its jagged edged emptiness with the warmth of my fingertips at any given day, and it always responds.
I can speak into its bitter silence and feel the echoes reverberate back to my lonesome ears, and it feels like I’m hearing someone else with my voice.
I can kiss its luscious darkness and combine with it anytime imaginable, and it makes me feel loved by simply everything.

You can call it a wish. You can call it imagination or depression.
But regardless of what you think, I’m in a single relation.
And I hold hands with it proudly.
530 · Apr 2015
Eyes -personal exerpt-
CJ M Apr 2015
eyes are the first thing I notice when I look at you, but that's not all I look at.

From your beatifully tamed strands of black hair, to the bottoms of your sneakers. However, your eyes are what captivate me the way they do.

Beautifully dark brown, round as diameter, staring through my soul the way they stare at open books dedicated to you, the novels of poetry made in your honor even before you were born.

Eyes

the cells that my heart is chained in.

Your eyes

the attention grabbing, free roaming palace where I intend to stay. Swimming in your eyes as if around a pool, and you know I stare, because you always look back.
CJ M Aug 2015
People can find perfectness in imperfection and be content with it. But why is it that I can find a problem in perfection and it eat & gnaw at me until dealt with?
Something's wrong, something's definitely wrong, but what is it? I'm not sure. Oh, goodness, why is it bothering me now?
I can express perfection, express imperfection, though I don't get that feeling of me putting up a facade. And yet I yet that feeling now.
This place is great, recluse, sure, but sweet nearly to completeness. And yet, I find there is problem in perfectness.
522 · Dec 2015
The Heat Of My Heart
CJ M Dec 2015
Ok, so maybe dreams do come true, maybe I am a romantic at heart and maybe I am a little hungry for someone’s attention.
It’s in human nature.
But now I don’t know what to say. It’s like one minute you’re a quiet thought of a possibility, and the next you’re more than that, you’re a possible in my world of confusion.
I’m so confused. What’s happening to me? Could I be tripping again? Lord, please don’t let me fall this time, please let me ride out a storm to a quiet peace that is true intimacy.
I want to hold the heart of someone whose heart is already given to someone else… I want to be the center in a double circle, but I know I’ll cause problems.
I want an intimacy, one I’ve been secretly searching for since the last, but I know the outcome. I know what will happen and I know what could become of another soul that ripped a hole in my chest with the separation severed by force.
I don’t want that.
I want her, but I don’t want her heartache, or the responsibility of knowing that I caused it. Call me lazy, call me cheap, call me crazy, call me weak.
But one thing you can’t call me is untrue.
So Maybe I’m tripping, maybe I’m falling for a girl with the issues of one who shouldn’t be allowed to stress over such things, maybe I’ve fallen for a broken soul that I believe I could fix, maybe I am the broken soul that needs a fix. All I know is that I might be forming what I dread and desire.
Maybe I’m adding to the heat of my heart.
just...... In thought, hoping I found my new inspiration, I guess. Tell me what you think
519 · Jan 2016
Afterlove (Vent #44)
CJ M Jan 2016
I’ve grown to like her body, but can’t fall in love with her mind.
We’re not on an equal playing field, no love for the lover, but it gets odd every time we talk.
So we stay quiet.

Originally, I could make love to her mind while we gave thoughts that pierced the order of the world’s system, but I can’t even sense a happiness anymore. We’re no longer a pair, no longer a connection.
We are mismatched.
I feel it, but can’t touch it on my plane of existence.
Raindrops drum on the base of my window sill as I write to the winds, words not flowing well enough so I force them as I force my tears back into my skull.
I’m a timebomb- limited and dangerous, and, sooner or later, I’ll explode.
I taste something bitter between my lips as I make winds flow around me. With my thoughts on my sleeve, I begin to feel
Swooned.
My winds block out the sounds of her
Tears wash away her long lost kisses
And my aching heart throbs enough to get rid of the pain of the thought of her nails on my cheeks as we stared into each other’s souls.
I gave you my heart, love. What was it you planned to do with it besides break it? I wanted the love that you could provide, I wanted to hold hands and speak sweet nothings, I wanted to argue about dumb things and hear you claim to hate  me before we’d make up and become best friends again.
But I was wrong.
Maybe it was bad luck, maybe it was Karma, but I was wrong about you. You weren’t the fantasy I thought you were, you were a chip in my armour that I had no clue about. You were my freedom, but you revoked yourself.
You were my love.
And now, love, I’m afraid we’re in a state of afterlove. I love you, but don’t and so forget my words of sweetness, my ****** jokes or, as you put it, quirky personality.
Your space in my heart has been revoked.
On a wave again, just lettin it go. This was actually a while I was makin it in class yesterday, but while I was continuing it today, I decided to change the title to "afterlove" So, avenge, Here it is lol
517 · Jan 2016
Dripping Silver
CJ M Jan 2016
The sun’s light drips off of my body like bright water
Liquid essence falling to the grounds by my sneakers and bathes the pavement.
I’m at a burn in heart.
The life drains from me slowly like needles in veins, but it’s not a medical extraction. I can feel something rising in me that isn’t being elevated. I feel the fear of change but the excitement of anger.
I feel hate.
Who do I hate? None, but I somehow still feel it. Empty words with a full mind, blunt remarks with a sharp intent. A passive aggression beyond comprehension.
I feel her hands on my cheeks as we kissed before she left. I could feel her love as she says she loves me, but I feel I’ve given her too many chances, I feel I’m in a situation of double jeopardy. So I let her go.
And I haven’t bounced back.
Now I miss my honeybee, but she can’t know the emotion dedicated to her or the power she unknowingly has on me. She can bring me to the ground in a matter of seconds, and yet, she stays to play with pityness and pride stings as she flaunts her new lovers.
And so I melt like metals in a furnace.
They say a man isn’t supposed to cry, they say he has to be as strong as steel. But I do cry, and when I do
My hard tears drip off of my cheeks like
Dripping silver
So after the ENTIRE school break  and ENTIRE time without my original school tablet, I have finally had the time to put this on, so here it is, avenge lol Oh, and just as a PS, Christy, this isn't about you, baby girl
516 · Sep 2018
Flooding Streets
CJ M Sep 2018
Pieces of my pride shimmer on her skin
Dressing her in my naked words
I love her so much that none can have her
I’m all that she deserves.

Being so greedy has got my mind confused
I never thought I’d hurt a heart or make her feel abused.

Now we sit together with adrenaline in the air.
We are love no more.
We are flooding streets.

Murky waters
Vinegar and salt smile
Sweet intentions with a sour escape
Hearts burst in the palms of the other

Drowning passion
Dagger kisses
Angry love

Water-wrecked minds
Hidden fears
Little communication

Tensions have risen in our tsunami of emotion
I found this on my old E-Drive and decided to post. Don't remember if or why I didn't post it earlier.
510 · Sep 2015
Verse #8
CJ M Sep 2015
I am a flood of giggles like a girl's bathroom, yet a rock so solid as to crack a skull when the right force is applied.
CJ M Sep 2015
I have an emotion of desperation at the moment, missing love and desiring it but at the same time rejecting it and wishing it not exist around me, a conflict within myself like a caterpillar in its cage of a cocoon.
And I must get out.
I feel held back by strong intangible arms that are relentlessly squeezing the life out of me. Oh, help me god. But Its roper around my neck isn’t dropping me, rather dangling me with enough life to torture me with the feeling of emptiness, a feeling of no love gained yet none to be lost in the first place. Ironically, I can’t die from the misery and can’t escape long enough for my blinks to bring me back to the hopes of an alternative reality.
Every girl I pass by has a feeling of gymniphoria, but for what? I couldn’t imagine even if I wanted to, and yet it’s merely an attempt of my soul to gather the remainder of my dignity and ****** it toward my brain in a way to flaunt it enough for me to feel it sink into my brain that I am strong enough to fight the feelings and live past it so that I can thrive once again on my former levels.
But I can’t get on this level like Kevin Gates, I had to work down and back up but down once more, and here I saunter godforsaken. My voice in a constant crescendo as I yell to the heavens for their attention once more. Hear my ******* pleas, hear the small voice as it raises and sends mountains into a judder as my wounded roar reaches its ****** and shouts passed heaven directly into the space inhabited by my thoughts.
508 · Jan 2016
Decadent
CJ M Jan 2016
My heart is still warm when it’s handed back to me
I guess it wasn’t enough to guarantee a love.
Who knew love would be so expensive.

I wish I had some intimacy
I wish I had that feeling of decadence again.
I just want to feel the love

My hands shake too much
Spoiled with the spell of calm that came over them when they would grasp a counterpart
A counterpart now missing

My tongue would savor the taste that stayed on my lips
Spoiled by chocolate sweet kisses
Kisses now missing

My arms used to ache
the feeling of someone in between them continuously
But now they hang by my side and keep to themselves, lonely.

I just miss the security.
The luxury of the life
I miss the taste of affinity that still bubbles on the cushion of my lips
That time when my heart was in decadence.
498 · Feb 2016
Flavor
CJ M Feb 2016
In truth, I am a Wildman swinging an ax. Where was the tree when I was burying my weapon into the helpless?
Why am I still in a hush over the things I shouldn’t even be thinking about? Why do I call myself a poet and why is it that the kind of poems I do are about something that I’ve barely felt.
It’s Ironic, isn’t it?
My soul dries up as people soak each other in liquid love. My heart burns as people kiss around me. I don’t feel jealousy, just a longing.
A longing for that taste that I used to know.
A longing for the cuisine of love and all its benefits.
For even though I only had a taste of something I considered basic
I still hunger for what I had.
I still hunger for that flavor
497 · Dec 2015
Response 025
CJ M Dec 2015
Your words are like a hidden key,

They unlock secret parts of me.

I might be your fall, but you’re a pick-me-up to me. I might have written my way into your book, but you did more, you illustrated your love clearly, you displayed it so publicly that it was somehow secreted in front of my own eyes.

Your ruby red cheeks provide a window into your mind, indicating what it is you think when I speak: happiness, anger, fear, contentment.

Your lips provide a physical contact point for us to meet, connection yet no wifi needed, communication yet no cell towers, A commitment between two invisible entities, a communication between two hearts.

My eyes betray my emotion as your cheeks betray yours. What study is it that requires me out of your head? What history is more important than that of our own? What pit is so deep, so dark as to keep the sun away? For, love, tell me this, and I shall change it faster than a bad tv channel.

Your worries should fade, for they are nothing but spiteful superficial seeds sown by one who claims to dis thee. Hateration is a disease, but, my love, when one is as beautiful as you are or as sweet and mellifluous as you, you must accept that you attract it.

Taking note of your existence is like being in a building burning and continuing your business, ergo I always do what I can to let you know that I see you. I love you, I loved you, and I’m loving you to this day. So may our loves last as long as our kisses, and may our kisses last as long as our intimatic energies can remain stabilized.
I had a teenink buddy or two that I'd respond to poetically, soooooooooo here's the most recent one
492 · Jan 2016
Duplicity
CJ M Jan 2016
How many punches can the human heart take before breaking? How many strikes can there be before a person is down? Maybe she could tell you.
She’s a player, and I’m not talking baseball. She plays with hearts, she plays with emotion until the emotion is drained and you are most vulnerable. She is a demon of heaven but a hellion angel.
Wonderfully wizardry but her spells send a mind into self-tension.
And I have been bewitched.
Bewitched by her fragrance, by the taste of her lips, by her mind and what I thought was the real her.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was actually hypnotized by this beauty. Maybe she wasn’t who she was, but I would’ve thought I was who I was supposed to be.
Who Am I? Who was she? Where am I in this world of deceit and trickery?
A chef of misery, cooking up a fresh batch with every new victim, so sensual yet so senseless
The touch of duplicity.
490 · Feb 2018
Pluviophile
CJ M Feb 2018
Pluviophilic:
Obsessed with the rainy days
since rain blends with tears
489 · Apr 2016
Wasted Pride
CJ M Apr 2016
I get it, we all have demons, but why is it that yours only taunt me?
Why is it that you have to insist on being difficult with me when I’m completely open with you?
Why is it that you always say that I do something, but that same thing you say I do is being done?
Honestly, you’re just wasting your pride.
486 · Oct 2015
crush questions
CJ M Oct 2015
Who is she?
She is an angel with a dark side, yet as light as her skin-tone. She’s on to the next like pages in a novel, a being of enchantment. Poet once again meets poet, only, there’s no back story to this one, nothing more than coincidental interest by one party, my party.
Does she know? Probably not, and I’m too shy to mention it, so I’m forced to speak in short intervals. It’s something about her. Something about how the way she puts her headphones in, or maybe the music she listens to. Possible the way she giggles or her reluctance to splay out what she’s thinking. It could be our opposite natures.
It’s something about the way she pushes her glasses up when they’re down, or something about how she looks in black.
It could be something about our short convos, or how much her nature reminds me of another. Perhaps it’s her known social signature or even the way she talks.  
Or, the truth is, I don’t know what it is, I just know she’s got my attention, and I know I want hers too.
I catch feelings like baseball players, find potential love like scavenger hunts, but they don’t lead me anywhere, they only look good in my mind, but this one is different. This one might actually be, might actually begin with an intimatic courtship and end with a breakage rather than a separation.
But how could it?
How could I possibly think of things that might never even be meant to be? How selfish of me to decide without her knowledge. But I’m desperate for my heart to run like it used to, desperate for the feel of what love can be. I lived off of expression, expression didn’t live off me, but now I’m running out of fumes in an empty tank, Abandoned on the side of a road less traveled yet worn and torn by those who dare travel it.
And of those, I am the last.
who, what, where, and when are all out of the question, but I put this together for a reason, and that reason was to clear my mind of these thoughts.
484 · May 2016
Forming Crystals
CJ M May 2016
Tiny particles of friendship formed between us as we talked in class. It wasn't easy to speak for either of us, but as time went on it became easier.
We Grew.
From a small convo to a late night text within a matter of days, the particles of our association formed a dust in the bottom of our minds.
And we began to gather.
Tell me what we were thinking, you a crush and I a passion. We were destined to get lost in time.
But we strengthened.
We collected under the name of understanding and particle after particle, laugh after laugh, kiss after kiss.
We became a glass as pure and untouched as time itself.
You are my diamond, my passion, my expense, my life
My Love
And I know you can't see it because of the gleams your eyes make when your truth hits my inner shine and the heights are formed.
But it's pieces form slowly as your hands lace in mine and your heart becomes my jeweler.
We are love
We are passion
We are the embrace of admiration.
The product of the kiss between the sun and moon.
Forming Crystals
Tar heart scraped sore by her warm, brown hands. She is so beautiful in so many ways that it's literally unfair.
If only this could build like forming crystals.
484 · Jan 2016
Heartache Of Rescue
CJ M Jan 2016
Heartache Of Rescue

I save so many souls on a daily that I forget about my own.
But I’m sick of saving hearts.
Only time can tell how long it is before the knight in shining armor is saved by a princess.
And maybe on that day, my heart will be spared as a token of gratitude
Rather than a practice for abusers.
Sorry, but this just had to be done lol sorry for the lack of length, avenge
483 · Oct 2015
Expression #25
CJ M Oct 2015
There’s a satellite touching my head as I think about you, I’m higher than the atmosphere can catch.
I can see your hips moving, almost swishing as you walk away from me, head in the clouds even then. I can feel the heat of your kiss as caress the small of your back, showing my intimacy with you as music plays in the background of this milieu, us dancing in unison, slowly moving from side to side, hand in hand and minds on one thing…
Love.
More specific, our love. We love like that was all we could make, we held hands like if we didn’t they would fall, kissed like if we hadn’t, then our health would deteriorate. We became the other and the other became we. We became us, your became our.
We were one once more. How chill and mellow we were. Our love beat at a tempo that only our hearts could follow, our emotion a symphony all its own.
Maybe you, like Maxwell. I’m in love like T-pain, influenced by all that is around me and even more so by those hidden from me. I call it love, but really, all I knew was that I didn’t lust you, I felt more than one emotion. I was tired of you, intrigued by you, enjoyed you, loved you and wanted you. I felt you to be the one. I wanted you to be my favor to myself, I wanted you to sweep me away in reminiscence and happiness that would ensue from it.
I wanted your love.
If I may ask, can I have it? Can I love you? Can you love me? I know it seems foreign to you, but it’s just as foreign to me, yet I can distinguish it from other emotions that I’m feeling. I feel a difference with you, you are a difference, and I am truly intrigued now.
I’ve never had a love as sweet as yours, never had someone as close as you later did. But now I’ll never forget it. I can’t stop with my reminiscing of what it was, what it should’ve been.
What I feel is an amazing issue, what I want to feel is a completely different factor. But what I want is for you to give it to me.
Your heart is my pillow, my heart is your bed. I am an open book love, and I pray you browse my pages.
Another expression.
480 · Oct 2015
Emily
CJ M Oct 2015
In her beauty, she doesn’t see her looks.
In her intelligence, she doesn’t see her smarts.
In her swagger, she doesn’t see her appeal.
But the fact that I do is bugging me. I barely know you, don’t know your name or any of your light skinned tendencies. But in that same aspect we are close. Where are you, Ms. Magnificent? Where is the one I want to love? Peel your shyness back like wrappings on the gift I give you: the gift of heart.
I swear, I fall in love with her every time we converse. In the moments we mingle she is always who she is meant to be. She must be an arsonist, because she’s starting a burning in my chest and an ache in my intentions. Thus her powers could very well bring me to an end.
She’s an open book by all means, but only she can translate her pages. Only she can tell her story without giving any twists that she didn’t intend. She is an affection unlike any the word has ever seen.
Her eyes- brown by all accounts, seeing through the soul as if the soul were translucent, she sees deeper than microscopes can dive.
Her hair- steady changing color, but never ceasing to amaze: red, yellow, black, brown, blue, colors in a rainbow of deep concentration.
Her smile- captivating to say the least. I find myself wishing her the best at the most random times. Her personality is one that fits mine so closely that I’m curious. We are close in soul, so why not close in attention? Let me concentrate on her like she’s an assignment, let me love her like geeks and gaming systems. Let me know her like I know passwords and let the same be said of her about me.
What is a crush?
I admit, I feel squashed to admit this, but I’m falling as if sky diving, and she is my parachute. I’m once more questioning my own comprehension, could she be the next in the line from my heart? Could she be the inspiration of many a poem to come if I play my cards right? The answer lies only with the question, and the question lies with her.
What does she think? Is it that her mind and mine are on different planes of the oblivion of existence, or is it that I’ve blinded myself from any flaw of hers enough to reject even her own objections? How could she not see it, her grip on my unaware heart? How could she not see her beauty, as obvious as it is, or her interaction with a crowd of comrades who indeed love her deeply?
Sugar sweet cream colored craving, let us parlay poetic fantasy until we both run out of things to say, let us intimate until we both forget the meaning of the word and show an infatuation that brings jealousy into the hearts of those who witness. And once we are done, let us restart again and again until the nights fade and final goodbyes are in order.
Let us speak. Let us smile.
Let us love.
~Emily.
If she sees it, don't let her freak out XD
475 · Sep 2015
Hellion Romance
CJ M Sep 2015
Hellion Romance
I am the waters that brace against land barriers to force them down enough for me to devour them, then conquer them and force them to submit to the weight of my aquatic life.
Ask Hawaii.
You are the moon, it is by your hand that I can do what I do, for you are what forces me to rise to your bidding or sink and sulk away with the tide.
We are partners in crime.
Partners in love.
Partners in terroristic excitement that we call our lives.
Hellions in romance
I'm not sure at all
473 · Aug 2015
Angelz Of Autaugaville
CJ M Aug 2015
I'm here now alone in the oblivion once more, alone in my world of desolation, a particularly similar scenario. Can your remember my first day? I woke you from what I thought was a nap so that you could go to 6th period, I didn't know you were already in the class. Oops, sorry, but you know I only meant the best.
Can you remember my confusion in the halls, you smiling at me, saying hi, and me believing it was to someone else? I remember, and, no lie, I kind of miss it.
Do you remember me acting tough when dude snatched my papers, or being cool enough to do his guy's ISS letter so that he was credited a leave of it? I do, can I have that again?
But though this place is bigger, though there are more people, all I see is more steps to take, and more strange gazes to avoid. Fair enough, I guess.
I can't expect to find what we had, Bri, can't expect to find a crush like you, Daja. But what I do hope to see is a phase of the continuation of the poetic chronicles, expect to keep going.
I'm not stuck in the past, I'm just reminiscent, I remember you both in ways that forced my creativity.
Baby bri, my poetic queen and dancing goddess, though pretty not many found you, you were beautiful to me, poem after response, making my brain steam. Thank you for being there.
And, Daja, the silent vigil, seeing through the soul by piercing through your eyes, you made me feel things I had long forgotten. You made me feel infatuation, you made me feel want. For the first time in my life, I grew up. You did this, and for that I thank you too.
Brianna, I can't explain it anymore, I may have a poem, but you have a name to me, something that even I lack to myself. Do you wonder what I'm up to? I sometimes question why it happened the way it did, but I think an answer has become apparent.
Daja, did you know how sassy you really were? You were my definition of a jazzy subconscious, jamming old music that was classic and quietly contemplating what I believe were personal issues. I don't know what you thought, but I have a confession, that poem I gave you? That was the wrong one. In reality, I had a personal one, but I was too scared to give it to you. So I switched it, hoping that the picture christian drew  for you would fit with it. But I realize now what was to honestly happen, I now see why I saw you in the first place, why i knew you.
The two of you, the Angelz of Autaugaville, misunderstood at times but completely understandable to all. One passing through "Love"  like a tunnel, switching positions continuously, but a romantic at heart. And the other, an invisible, what are you thinking? What are you feeling? what are you seeing? Sweeter than soft grapes and a voice as smooth as honey. A spirit I could read and a reason I couldn't find. You two were my wisdom angels, you helped me grow to be who I am at this very moment, and for that I'm continually grateful.
I love you both, though I'm probably forgotten, in any context you'll accept.
In love with an idea, so I just spent it here. This is kind of like a reminisce session for me. they made an impact on me and I'm in my feelings, so I'll give em this poem.
470 · Jun 2016
Broken years
CJ M Jun 2016
My phone rings at two in the morning, it can only be one person.
I listen to her newest trouble with him and hear her sobs in my ear.
Only when the sun stung her skin would her tears dry this day.
She would wait for him, listening to him lie to her and she would cry to me about his mistrust.
She never broke that cycle, though she was a broken heart.
The next night doesn't change, she cries about his newest issue and how she wishes she could leave him. But she's too close to him to see the possibility of even her own words.
"Leave him", I said, "he doesn't deserve you. Any man would rather be dead than play with your heart." I told her. But she wasn't hearing it.
I was tired of hearing her sob stories, I wanted her to do something to get out of this. No more anger, no more crying, no more sorrow, only happiness.
I wanted her to see a life without him.
But she didn't see that vision, so I had to let her go. But I couldn't, I would always stay her shoulder to cry on and she knew it. So the cycle continued.
But now it's five in the morning and no call....
I take it as a sign of happiness and let it alone.
Now its seven and I'm confused, she would've called by now at least to wish me a good morning.
it's nine at night and I call again, wanting to hear her voice again, but she doesn't pick up.
I call again, in a panic, she would never reject my call. I call again and again until it's nearly eleven PM and she still doesn't pick up.
My phone dings with the notification of a facetime request. I pick up and just stare at her.
Eyes blood shot
dried lines of tears on her cheeks
and her mouth pursed in a way to show she was about to cry again.
She doesn't look at the screen, she only puts her head down and lets out a deep emotion felt sigh before speaking.
"I love you too much not to have you here at this time. I'm sorry, please forgive me." She says.
What are you talking about? what's the problem, why arent you picking up the phone? All these questions and she doesn't answer one. She only puts the phone down and levels it so I can see her. A gun is on her bed now, she picks it up and raises it to her head. I'm screaming now. I'm trying to talk her out of it but she cries and pulls the trigger in front of me.
I jolt up in shock. My fear taking hold as my eyes pour water and I can do nothing but yell and cry.

It's six in the morning, police find her body on the floor of her apartment with all evidence pointing to her suicide.
She was broken. Her mind not her own and her love to one who played her one too many times, she became a killer.
They found her, but what they hadn't known was that she had killed another that night.
What they didn't know is that she was heartbroken in every possible way and that her hunger for revenge grew everytime she saw his face.
What they didn't know was that she was too weak.
What they didn't know was that she couldn't survive the broken years.
454 · Feb 2016
Rest assured
CJ M Feb 2016
My mind twinges with each of the plentiful thoughts of you.
You're everywhere I look now, even when I look in mirrors, and I can't stop envisaging your face.
But I can't give you anymore of my mind.
I'll move on from you sometime
For my sake.

Rest assured
444 · Sep 2015
Expression #22
CJ M Sep 2015
Fresher than the sky after a rainy day, us was found strongly subdued in intrigue and properly shawled in ****.
Higher than hippies can ever attain yet the ocean envies our deepness, back breaking as if our love were a tile floor that doubled as a bed at night, yet we are still comfortable. Still striving for the placement next to the historics and enjoying the wait, the ascent toward remembrance and the ascent from stupidity as we learn each other like Spanish class.
Let me know you, let me feel your energy. Why? Well, why not? I'm an alienated settler, so I suppose I need closeness? Or better yet,
I need you.
Why are you looking around? Move the stranger in front of you so that you can see my finger pointing at you. Yes, you, I need you. I'm interested, curvy swaying hips that deserve my caress, **** luscious lips that deserve my attention, she's a love-starved apparition that's deserving of the meal that I feel I can provide.
We are instruments, feel the beat of my drum, ba-da-da-dum-di-dum-di-dum, the sound my heart makes when you talk to me. The sound I hear when I know I'm ****** to make a fool or myself in front of you. My love, we are satire beings, embodying principles that we formed in a sheepish state when our fantasies were formed and our dreamy hopes became lost wishes.
I thought I knew love, but I didn’t know you, so what I knew was the fact that truth and lie could be twins at times. Right and wrong could be cousins.
443 · Dec 2015
Dust--Press Play
CJ M Dec 2015
Dust—press play

Dust
Unwanted fragments of a greater item. I am a fragment of dust to life, but not a nuisance to myself or anyone else… So why do I feel unwanted?
Play
Several explanations for a relatively short word. I could simply be joking around, but I don’t feel so comico at the moment. I could be addressing an issue through performing arts, maybe even enjoying some sort of activity like I did when I was a youthier youth.
Press
Could be the media, could be a motion done involving applying pressure to something, could be an action when applying pressure to someone.
I am a partical of dust
Forced pressure surrounding an otherwise struggles form
Addressing issues noted as things rarely cared about.
But that’s not where this poem’s name came from.
I seek acceptance like a homeless dog, but I still have some sort of vibe of emptiness.
Like Air.
Though the air isn’t empty, the air is teeming with life that we literally couldn’t care about. And so it is with me.
I am
Dust
Press
Play
I made this poem like 3 times on paper, and then they dissapeared.... sooooo I just did this in class lol bad excuse for a poem that was decided on the 24th lol
441 · Aug 2015
why
CJ M Aug 2015
why
my generation spans miles at convenience stores, backing eachother when it comes to the video games and electronics that keep us combined in ways meaning friendship in real life, and best friends in virtual reality.
Yet my race keeps itself in a way that makes us look destined to destruct, to love each other and then spit in the face of our loved ones as if we were meaning disrespect.
Why?
Why is it that a poet can understand things in different ways than other people yet the thoughts be the same? why is it that one can be brought to tears and bring up gender as if it makes a difference?
I haven't a clue, but it makes a soul hurt, it makes thoughts begin to wonder and minds to ache in contemplation.
439 · Jan 2016
Fantasy
CJ M Jan 2016
You are my fantasy
A product of my imagination
You are my adversary
A product of my impatience.

You are my everything, and as such, I keep you locked to my hips in an attempt not to lay you in harms way.
But your weight is stinging me, you're ripping the skin as you claw into my soul.

But I like it.

As bitter as you are and as fearful as I am.
I can't get your heat out of my eyes.
Can't get your body off of me
can't get our lips off of mine.
You are tinder like meat but crisp like lettuce
Juicy like fruit but bitter like peelings.

I want you near me
nibble your neck as you curse and complain.
break you down as you insist disappointment.

I just love when you're mad.

You are my weakness and, probably, the death of me.
But that's the point, you feed my danger-seeking side.
In your mind, you're putting me in my place
but in my mind, you're feeding
My Fantasy
*adjusts shrinking shirt collar* I have absolutely no idea where this came from lol
CJ M May 2015
Sugar is sweet by itself, but even more so when mixed with flavors.
She is the flavor, one I’ve never savored before, one that’s intriguing to me to a point of shear attracted interest, and I believe she knows it. She can hear the interest, can feel the heat of my words, and I feel hers as well.
Heavy conversation? I think not, It’s a natural for us both, whether or not we realize. For we are both expressers, both professing emotion like analysts.
Poets
The Irony of it is that she’s better, but I don’t mind, we are after all different professions of the same thing.
Sweet like syrup, shy like mockingbirds, hesitant as kittens, flow like the winds that blow the currents of the ocean, and as vibrant as a child high on fructose.
Feminine intuition should tell her she’s entering dangerously close territory, but she powers on through it regardless, perhaps with ruby red blushed cheeks, perhaps with a whole-hearted smile, perhaps not. But she has taken it, she has taken my eyes off of the situations, the standards, and placed them squarely on  her.
I haven’t felt the buzz in a long time, haven’t felt the attraction in mere moments, yet they have both been reawakened by her.  What’s going on in my head? Is there something that I’m missing? Indeed, It’s her.
A poet in every sense of the word, and a beautiful fortune more so. Her name is synonymous with soul, her eyes are only described as deepening pools of eternity, smile described as Insta-ready, but is that all? Whoever mentioned it was unjust to her. For her smile speaks more than she. It tells of trial and error, love and lost and perhaps more.
She has lost much, but what she has lost shall be regained somehow, and I pray I’m around to see her dreams be achieved singlehandedly by her,  girl wonder. Taken more stress than the human body should bare and still walking through the hell with clenched fists and a strong gait.
I can feel her presence, sense her sadnesses, why cry? No need for tears of sorrow for you one day, no need for fears or upsetments. I know she knows who she is, and I hope these words touch her, for nothing else shall harm her, nothing shall infiltrate her innocence and take advantage, not with the help of my will and strength, and I give it to her now for her well-being and protection.
I don’t know her as much as I’d like, but perhaps I might, perhaps I might understand her complexities for good and allow them to stick close to me in whatever form of intimatic energy we find, whether friendly or deeper.
A speaker is simply an amplifier for sounds, a stronger voice for a weaker one.  I have been told that I’m the speaker, the strong voice in a world of weak voices, but I don’t see how. She is her own speaker, her own voice may rise louder and stronger than many that have been tried before her, and yet she still hurts. If I could, I’d take the pains away, protect her from what I believe is hurting her. But what if It’s not what I think? What if I’m merely protecting her from what I figured was hurting her and it wasn’t. What if I only end up messing up again? It’s not my intention to ruin the rose by picking it, but to let it linger in the **** patch would allow it to disappear from me.
434 · Jan 2017
Loving Elements
CJ M Jan 2017
I touched the air today as it gushed past my outstretched fingertips. So fluffy and innocent and yet so crisp in its distinction. I brought her into my lings greedily and then exhaled at her touch.
When she began to caress my senses, I dug into her neck with my lips and brought the mutual satisfaction a notch higher and higher as a sigh of pleasure was whispered into my ears.
It was here that I knew I'd never be alone, this altered reality that changed my paradigm so effortlessly. I never wanted to leave.

I Kissed the rain today while she dripped down from heaven and landed solely in front of me. The swish generated by her hips changed the direction of the water's trickle. And once in front of me, I pressed her form close to mine until every drop in her body echoed my temperature. Each significant drop was one of her fingers holding onto my face, or sneaking close to my lips where I would steal it momentarily before she took it back. I clasped her wet fingers in mine and absorbed part of her.

I played with fire today as her seduction set my body ablaze. Her words heated, I silenced her by placing my lips over hers and ******* the smoke away. As her temperature rose, I became weaker and weaker for her orange flames. She began to devour me. And as I lie there, fire roaring on top of me, I began to burn my soul away like dry leaves. Her warmth captured me like a camera as she grinded slowly and seductively on my embers. A new flame had been kindled.

I created new life with earth today as I felt the heart beating of her heart through the palms of her hands. Scorched soil as the fire of my love slowly dissipated into her shaking grounds. She gave me in return a gift that I can never repay, the irrepressible joy of the birth of my first child. I placed my faith and love and seed into her grasses and she birthed me a tree of my own. A tree that I can groom and nourish and raise as best I see fit. A life untainted by the toxins of the world. And it was here that I knew I could be safe; I knew I would never leave.
430 · Sep 2015
She is My Expression
CJ M Sep 2015
I am an invisible entity in the night once more, my dark skin blending with the darkness of the day, giving me the true power of stealth, but with this sense of sight loss comes the realization that I can neither be seen nor acted with. And quite naturally, I feel the sense of loneliness that comes with it. But what was I even looking for to begin with? Why wasn’t I in complaint in the first place?
I was always unsatisfied with what I had, praying that I escape it, but when things got well, only then would my wish be granted, ergo I was given more to complain about. So now my only escape is poetry. It’s something about the way my words can strike the same broken chords in my heart, I’m in love with none but this, none but expression.
Ah, expression.
She is an outlet for the one constantly taking in whatever elements challenge him, she lets me be myself, even though it’s literally not possible in my day to day. She lets me know what love is, what living can be, even though I may not know of it physically.
I sometimes find myself in the middle of a day, just fantasizing about what’s possible in my writings, how I shall caress my lady expression at night. I clutch her in my dreams and kiss her every time my pen hits paper or my fingers hit keys. I stroke her hair everytime I lose my thoughts in fantasy. I show my love by completely submitting to her, submitting to my urge for more of it. I hunger for her, call me thirsty if you’d like, but I can’t stop admiring my lady.
I found her in the middle of a bad dream, she grabbed me, lifted me, hugged me deep and we locked lips. When I woke up, I was anew, I was literally myself, I wrote and wrote until I didn’t write anymore.
And I cried.
I had opened up my own prosperous little next-life. A heavenly formation of all things I intended to create in my own head. She was always there, even when others left, my true lady was expression, my true love was she.
And even in my loneliness, I know she is there still. So why gripe about it? You’re never truly alone, though she is just a shadow in the minds of others, she is true inspiration herself in my eyes.
She is my expression.
just let me express lol shout out to expression, she is my true lover.
428 · Nov 2015
Expression #5
CJ M Nov 2015
Elaborately interesting Eagle-eyed lover, you are my heart and soul today.
Let us dance, swishing hips and leaning close, leaving behind all feelings of regret and escape into our own multiverse once more.
Let our lips touch and make waves crash, let our close proximity cause sparks to roar to flame, let our touch form paths that lead to paradise.
Let us share love like potlucks or make it like bakeries. Let us know intimacy like we know the pledge or feel it like caressing.
Let’s be one.
Let me have your heart and give you mine, I don’t mind an even trade. I’ll be gentle and you’ll be consistent, we both have what we need and exactly what we want.
I want you.
And I know you desire e as well, so let’s make desired passion a passion that we both know, a passion that we both bring.
Eagle eyes are sharp and attentive, so that's where that came from lol don't ask who's the inspiration XD.
428 · Dec 2015
One Thing
CJ M Dec 2015
One thing that I can’t do is sit back idle while I sense tears in her eyes.
I can’t let that happen.
One thing I can’t do is imagine anyone trying to hurt her in any way.
I guess that means I’m gullible, right?
People are people, and I put absolutely nothing as being below them, but she’s an inspiration. She’s a free spirit in public and a good converser in private. She’s a being of light in the tunnel of life, and I’m glad to know her. But somehow she still hurts. And when she hurts, I don’t know why, but I can feel something in my spirit turning.
What’s going on? Why is this happening? Lost words, empty convo, I’m confused to the point of losing grips on myself, my therapy failing for the first time in years. I’m just as shaken as she is, and yet she can rebuild.
Why is this cherry child crying clear tears of pain? Why has this been put in her life? What is it I can do to help? Things I’ll never answer in my lifetime, but the mystery is still killing me.
Upset sadness clouds my judgement, questions arise that I refuse to answer, wishing for her attention sometimes but then not the next. And yet all I want to be is there.
It just feels different, like the balance of the world has shifted in disturbing proportions and now I have no control over what I initially thought I completely overpowered.
Am I really a shoulder to cry on or merely another passing emotion in a setting of many? Is my feeling really different from anyone else’s in this confusion?
One thing I can’t do is let the questions pass without trying to reach out and caress the answers. I need to know what it is that’s going on, I need to know how I can be the knight in shining armor for the princess who’s stolen my heart.
Is that wrong?
Is it considered obsessive if I study people in an effort to learn any and everything I can about a situation I’ve never had to deal with? Am I supposed to feel as stupid as I do when the things I do don’t work?
One thing I have to know is if there are answers to my questions.
The questions I refuse to ask.
More vent
426 · Nov 2015
Ode to Desperation
CJ M Nov 2015
If I died today, tell me, who would care? As far as I can see, I’m not so special.
If I were to claim love for a person, who would accept it? And thus I stay crowded by thoughts of regrets in everything I do.
If I were to disappear tonight? Who would notice? Would I just be another milk carton mystery story, or would I actually have somebody desperate to find me other than obligated family?
When I say I care for a person, tell me, will they care back? Will I have their attention like they have mine or will it be another one-sided relationship?
When I get injured on a sharp edge, knife or otherwise, who will put a bandage on me and giggle at my clumsiness? Who would be concerned at all?
In my desperation to find my counterpart, I’ve missed many an opportunity with many a nice girl. Why? Why did I play with their hearts the same way mine was before? Why destroy a good soul?
In my desperation for attention, I’ve sliced through many an attention-needing associate, many a person more deserving of it than me. And for that, I’m truly sorry.
If I apologize for a sin, who would acknowledge it? Who would even notice the way I feel or the guilt on my face?
No one that I can see.
422 · May 2016
Static Shocks
CJ M May 2016
Static builds around my fingertips as I run my fingers down the jacket you left me.
I **** my hand away in shock.
My energy is still electronegative for you.
I try to build up my thoughts and let them tumble, I try to put myself in an emotional slump over you, I try to feel real anguish for  you.
But all I get is magnetic repulsion.
I realize I don’t know you..
So why the hell should I tear myself down
because our intimatic electricity ran its course
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