I have cages below me
I float above them
My antigravitational force being my belief that I am superior
U take my blade and look at the captives in my cages
It seems to be close to feeding time
They are
Afterall
Throwing themselves agaisnt my cages
So I take out my blade
Letting them feed on the drops of blood pouring down my arm
They are sated

Lityle so they know
Ther is POSION IN MY BLOOD

HA
HA
ha
ha

I love?
Your          POSION
dear one
Because
It numbs mine?!

Drip
Drip
Drip...
Goes the blood from the blade

Splat
Splat
Splat...
Goes the blood on the floor

Squeak
Squeak
Squeak...
Goes the mouse on the floor

Sniff
Sniff
Sniff...
Goes the mouse to the blood

Lick
Lick
Lick...
Goes the mouse to thw blood

Choke
Choke
Choke...
Goes the mouse on the floor

Fall
Fall
Fall...
Goes the mouse on the floor

Die!
Die!
Die...?
Goes the mouse on the floor

Ha
Ha
Ha...
Goes me :)

Guess what
I saw myself in the mirror today
And I saw some stranger staring back at me
His hair was messy
He had black-purple bags under his eyes
Swollen from catching all of his tears
His face was red and there were scratch marks from his anger
His dried lips were cracked from all his screams of frustration
Dried blood caking his jaw and neck
He looks at his neck bruised and swollen from him trying to strangle himself
All in all that man in the mirror seemed like he wasn't doing okay

But I quickly showered and decided to wear my poloneck today
It was after all a nice shirt

I am Ariel Taverner
I have certain beliefs and views on life
I'm overprotective but I will **** you if you touch someone I love

I am Ariel Taverner
And for those that know me I seem to be a good person
I am. At times a very good person
But at 23:45 alone in a bed I'm pathetic

I am Ariel Taverner
And the saddest part about my life is that nobody on this globe knows who I am
I reveal aspects of my life and being to people but i never reveal the whole thing
If your were to take my friends and family and put all of their information of me together
Then in that pool of resources
That is where you would find the true me
The one that nobody sees
And nobody will because as much as I love you whoever you are in my life I.... You will never truly know me

And to me that is sad
And I am sad

I'll tell you a story
Of Two men
Who were best friends
One who had a predisposition to feeling nothing
The other who had a predisposition to sadness, suffering, and helping the people whom he loved
Their names were pity and melancholy
Respectively
One day pity said:"I want to be sad Mel. I want to feel sad. I wonder what being sad feels like?"
"Rather terrible I'd assume Pit." replied Melancholy
"Well I guess I'll never know." Said Pity and with that the two friends went their seperate ways
Melancholy was conflicted because he wanted to give Pity everything. Including sadness.
So he sat down and started planning. He thought of sadness and raindrops and death and tears and scars and pain and cruelty and anger and many sad things about the human race.
He drew things. Things that created tears in his eyes. Things that caused the void in his chest to deepen.
Then he was ready
He gathered all of his pencils and pictures and paints and brushes and palettes
And he set out to paint the streets with sorrow
He painted raindrops on the walls
And death on the floor
And cruelty on the lampposts
And suffering on the windows
He painted and painted
He painted a man's tears raining down from the walls
To drown the men on the floor
As the demons sniggered in delight from their lampposts
And their victims of torture hung fromm the windows
Melancholy painted.
He turned the river of tears into a river of blood
And when he ran out of red paint
He slit his wrists and used his own blood
Pouring his life into his sadness
Pouring his life into his river
And then it was finished
His masterpiece of sadness was complete
"Maybe Pit will feel sadness." he thought as he lay in the wet paint and blood with a small smile on his face
Pity walked around the corner and saw the tears and the demons and the corpses and he was scared
He followed the ominous river and at the end he found an extremely well painted corpse
It looked just like his friend Melancholy
He picked up the painting and as he watched the life abandon his sad friend's eyes he felt it
The pit
The void growing in his chest
Painful as if it were an acid that burnt up into his throat
As he watched the life abandon melancholy's life he cried
Because his friend was dead
And he was sad

It seems

           I can only cry tears
Of
Self
Pity

One day we should sit down together

We can talk sure
Kiss? Why not. In fact i would love to kiss you

But I want to sit down with you
I want to compare blades
I'll show you my opinel French knife
You'll show me your blade
Then we'll cut
I'll put my blade down and you'll do the same
Then we will swap
Ill take your blade
You'll take my opinel
And we'll cut
Then ill put my arm on your lap
You'll do the same
And we will cut each other

Be my friend
Hold me
Wrap me up
I am small
And needy
Warm me up

*they say that the smallest packages hold the biggest things

We just drove through a small town
It was fascinating
Fascinatingly morbid
Morbidly surreal
There were probably 10+ plots that were haphazardly converted into graveyards
'Ratchet' as my generation would think but not say because that would be 'disrespectful to the dead'
In each of the graveyard were hundreds of graves
And it was strange
Strange how such 'ratchet, disrespected and haphazard' graveYARDS
Contained such Beautiful and ornate gravestones
As if to say that nothing could lessen the glory of their death
They would leave behind an impression of beauty
Even in death
(Even though they never chose their gravestones. But don't say that because it would be 'disrespectful to the dead' in their blissful abyss)
It makes one think
That in a town of less than 1000
There was easily more  than 2000 gravestones
It shows how life goes on
How, even in a small town,  we are insignificant

I'll tell you a story
Of two people
One who was a goddess with luscious Black hair
The other who's only beauty existed in his paintbrushes
Their names were Manipulation and Empathy
Respectively
Manipulation walked through the streets
Wearing her insecurities upon the sleeves of her designer coats and upon the makeup she wore
Boys saw a woman
Men saw an intimidating figure
Gentlemen saw a woman
Empathy saw her
He felt the pain in her mascara
And the tears in her eye liner
So he pulled out his brush and followed her
Imagining what could make her eyes smile along with her mouth
He started painting
His mind filling with images and ideas
His eyes glazing over as the Channel opened
His mouth slightly parted in concentration
He painted flowers beneath her stilettos as she walked
And trees above her hair
He painted sensations of beauty and nature
He painted smells that invaded her nose
He painted sounds that bombarded her ears with elegance
He poured his soul into the birds that flew around her
His life force into the river that flowed with a furious crescendo
He painted until manipulation stopped and smiled
And as empathy lay there dying he never did know whether the smile reached her eyes
Because she was wearing sunglasses

I sit outside here alone
The chilly air suspendes around me
The smell of wetness resonates boldly from the rain some twentt minutes ago
I wear my white formal shirt wrinkled and undone at the top and bottom as well as my black formal pants that protects my legs from the cold
It's dark....
Lights in the distance remind me of the isolation which beats in time to my heart
My fumbling hands reach for tge carton and I remove one
Placing it in between my lips, the taste making me anxious for what is to come
A scrape and a fizzle then a sudden yet small blaze of light erupts as the damp matches are lit
The frenzy of letting the flame touch the lip before the dampness kills it
The matche's flame burns out, ending its bright career
But not before it ignites the cigarette and leaves the tobacco smoldering like miniature embers
I inhale.... tasting the smoke and exhale, watching in awe at how the smoke lazily twists and curls in the air
I enjoy the taste of it in my mouth
I don't allow it to go further than my mouth simply enjoying the flavour
I finish one, staring at it as the sliver of doubt creeps in....
Better light another to make sure
I repeat the process but this time I inhale deeply on the first drag, allowing the bitter smoke to enter my lungs
Yup...There it is: the disgust
I sit in the dark like some kind of thief smoking a *** just for the sake of smoking it
I do what my friend taught me
I inhale deeply and take a big drag into my mouth and sharply breath it into my lungs
It stings......
It burns......
And I wait...wait for the- Ahh! There it is. The lightheadedness.
The only immediate effect I feel from smoking
It hits me harder than my freight train of insecurities
Here I'm sitting...
Outside in the dark as if I was a common criminal
My legs are on the table in front of me spread like a cheap *****'s
And in a way I'm allowing my insecurities to **** me as if I'm the cheap *****
I start to taste the disgustingness of the bile-bitter smoke in my mouth
The pretty patterns of smoke no longer making it worth it
I close my eyes and the dizziness causes me to feel like I'm on a boat in a sea somewhere about to drown
I'm never had seasickness but the nausea cripples me
I open my eyes and look at the half burnt stub I hold between my fingers like some posh *******
It smolders and despite the hate I feel towards its ugliness I love the beauty of the smoke
I realize how disgusting I am
How the smoke in my hand tastes like cud
How my below average body screams for attention
How the oily pimples on my chest swear at me each time I look in the mirror
I am disgusting
And so is this smoke
I close my eyes again and I feel like I'm falling forward
Towards the darkness within me
The darkness I kept locked away for so long
I plummet and right before the abyss I open my eyes and look at the now dead *** in my hand....

Maybe I need a new brand...

The sweet smooth music plays, setting a tantalizing atmosphere that somehow says I am the master and you will enjoy tonight
The band playing the music seem plastic yet at the same time vibrant with restrained energy. Energy that , like blood, seeps into the people in the room yet not into the music that is being created. The music does not need the energy because it has a power all on its own. The people dancing enthusiastically look satisfied. They look to be having an extravagant time. Everyone is smiling. Everyone is happy? No? Look deeper. If you focus intensly, you can see the signs: a mouth twitching, a hand hesitating as it reaches for a glass, a foot jerking to its position in the dance it is performing. If you look even deeper there are signs of the desperate lust to escape: a shorter than usual skirt, a scar on a wrist, a ciggarette in a hand, a bruised neck. And I can see these signs so effortlessly.  If these people could come evn close to comprehending intelligence they would call it a gift. This is not a gift ....... only a burden I bear and as I look to the others who have the ability I see them hanging. All of them. Hanging from rafters I cannot reach understand or comprehend........  I look at my rafter and deep inside me I feel the perverted need the grotesque want to find those other rafters so I drop the rope and push the chair away and I stare.... stare aimlessly at the mindless zombies that smile fake smiles.

I want

SOMEONE

That I can trust

Someone to hold

I went through a lot for you
Said the nicest things
Treated you like what you were
And I hurt you
And you hurt me
Yet I know that I put way more effort in
I tried harder for you
And yes on many ways it was a little boy crying for attention
Wanting to be special
And yes that's pathetic
But you still took advantage of that
You still led me on
Even if you didn't notice you still did it
Even if you never wanted to hurt me you did
I keep on telling people that of the two girls I've ever truly liked one ****** with my emotions and the other lives in Durban
And this might just be it
This might be me finally letting it go
Saying *******
*******
for being the ***** you were that played with me until you got somebody else
Then literally dumped me like the fake emotions you had for me
You used me like a ******* experiment
And I just wanna say *******
Not in passing
Or in anger
But a real one
One that hopes you suffer for what you did to me
Onw that hopes one day I'll see you and you'll feel my pain
And you'll regret it all
One that hopes you see me years from now and you'll realise what you did to me
How you completely ****** with me
So *******
'My ******* orange princess.'

Daddy! Daddy! Can I be a superhero when I grow up? Like superman. Or batman!*

of course you can. You cqn be anything you want

We no longer dream
I always wanted to be flash
Or the green lantern
I went through I spiderman phase but that passed

Then I grew up a little bit
And I wanted to be batman
I mean he is the only feasible superhero
His gadgets are possible
His martial arts are possible
As a whole he can actually happen
That's why I loved him
I still wanted to be a superhero

I no longer think it's possible
It would be fun to have laser eyes
Or sick fighting moves
But it's just a dream.....
So knowing its not possible
So we stop dreaming
We might want to save everybody
But we know its not possible

Lies call to us all
We are never taught to do it
But we always do
Why
Its because that the idea of not getting caught
Is so tantalizing none can resist

I am swimming in a river
A circle of a river
And I drown
Yet I still live
I swear
I could drink THAT WHOLE ******* RIVER AND I WOULD STILL KEEP ON WITH MY METAPHORICAL SWIMMING

You! Just cone and ******* try to knock me down
I'll kick your measly ***

It's the eyes I'm telling you

There is this thing we have in modern photographical technology
It gives us the ability to reverse technology while simultaneously using an advancement in technology
What I'm talking about is how we can revert a colour photograph into a black and white photograph
It's kind of like taking away the brilliance of a photograph

People say that the eyes can show us who the person is

What I've seen in many
Nay all
Of the black and white photographs that I've seen is that when there are eyes present their brilliance is diminished
I like to believe it's because the 'windows to the soul" just do not have the power to shine so far
Across two photographs
But that belief has been changed

I truly believe that if nothing else it shows us the brilliance of a person

My belief changed when I saw her eyes
In a black and white pictures
Her eyes seem to be more brilliant than ever
It was phenomenal! Her joy and radiance shined deep into me! It made me smile! I don't even know why I smiled or why a pretty girl made me look so moronic?!
Even though I don't understand it I'm glad that it exists
Because I got to smile

The brilliance of a person is a small part of their charcater. I don't really know what brilliance is. But I know that people with brilliance are usually peoplw I get along with.

The death wish
Has
And still does
Exist
Yet I have beaten it Black and
Blue
Ensuring that it does
Not
Come back to haunt
Me
Making my small
Life
An utter
Misery

I fought it so that
I
Can survive my
Insanity
I didn't do it for
Me
I did it for the people I
Love
The people that meant the
World
To Me and who I would
****
For any day of the week

This is the only
Way
That I as a person can
Survive
This torturous
World
And my promise to all who know
Me
Is that I
Ariel Taverner
Will never give up
Ever
And I'll do it for you

A memory of a man
Suspended from the coarse necklace; a punishment for his sin.

Motionless weight, dead weight.

Silky tufts of trembling silvery hair;
The only sign of life's abandonment.

Gently as the blissful breeze blows it's protest-
An empty gesture of grace-
His once young locks...revitalised.

A thought; even a pitiful gale would fail to summon but the swaying of a blue headed pale bodied dead man.

Im a monster.Didnt see that one coming, but here i am : a monster: a human that has killed another and feasted on their flesh as if it were the sweetest pork on the earth.  Even though I knew what o was doing was wrong I still did it.  Why? This thing inside of me.  I call it "THE GROTESQUE LUST".  I stay hidden away from everyone but then it awakens. I then crawl into my box lock it while I still have any control.  Then I fight I fight for hours, days even.  In the end if I win I crawl out of my box and carry on hiding.  But if it wins it takes over and changes it, but it Let's me see through its eyes and it also allows me to retain my brain.  As I watch through its eyes I see my arms grow a dark green fur and my fingers become claws.  This is where I wish that I was dead.  Then it walks out into the night looking
Looking
Looking
It spots its
victim and chases and catches the poor girl.  I am forced to watch as it rips her apart and feasts on her.  Now the worst part comes: The taste
The taste of the blood
Of The flesh
Of The bones of everything
I enjoy it...............

It's as if I was floating along a trickle of water like a leaf
Meandering
Quite happily
Through my life
Happy that I was going where I wanted to go
That I was going where my plans intended for me to go
But then I hit a rock and by some magical combination ofthe wwater's flow and balance
I stayed pushed against that rock
And I stayed there for four hours
For four glorious hours
But then the trickle swept me away
But I should have taken maybe one extra minute
Just to feel your lips pressed onto mine
Just to feel your body pressed against mine
And I know that my plans
And my life
Will not allow for another second of me being pushed against that rock
But I regret that I didn't make my perfect memory better
So that when the incense that bursts alight when I think of you
Would smell
Even better

**** I want to kiss you....

People say that they never forget the day they met the love of their life. I'm different. I can't remember the day nor the week nor the month. I only remember Her.

She was standing there, at some party I assume, but in my minds eye she was standing alone in a room dominated by pure white. Nothing around her mattered. She took over ever part of what I saw. Her memory fought with and mercilessly destroyed the other inconsequential memories of that month until it had found a space big enough within my brain for The Memory of her to be embedded within my consciousness.

Eventually as the years passed so did our fire and our beauty,  replaced with embers and wrinkles. The embers,  not signs of a waning love, but if a strong, steady, rooted love that burns with with consistency and deceptive passion. The wrinkles,  representatives of each kiss, each hug, each wink, each Smile, each frown, and each joyous moment that ever reverberated between us. The twinkles within our eyes fueled by the countless 'I-Love-You' s that we gifted to each other. I started to forget things: where I put my shoes... what I ate for supper... what my job was... my family... my birthday... my name...

I write now not remembering the start of this story. I have holes within my memories... Blank spaces, large and small, where I kept my treasures.

I forgot Her.

She left my memory long ago, preferring my soul. I lie on this bed recalling two things: I can Write and I have a Wife.

She is in my soul. I forgot the day I met her and I forgot her. Yet our love ensured that she would never leave me.

I fear the night
For it is to be feared
All my childhood horrors
Seem like a pleasant reprieve
A reprieve from this insanity
From the monsters that attack me
Give me the secrets the lies
I feel it
All of it
And I still care
After years of despair
I still care
They call it a gift but it destroys me

Immer un immer schreine ich
Warum
Warum
Immer und immer weine ich
Warum warum

I dont want to be who I am
Make me someone else
But not somebody smart
O god no
Make me someone stupid
I hate being who I am

*if you can please help me

It was destined to be a bad night
Too many emotions
Too far into their ******
Too many emotions destined to lead to numbness
The numbness that would cause me to drift into a horrible hell
That night I knew would be extra worse because my orange princess was feeling bad
So I turned to my last resort
The thing that would help me survive
Alcohol
Vast amounts of alcohol to numb my emotions do that they would not escalate
And Make me numb
And I told her
I told my orange princess because I trust her
I did not think that it would have such a big affect on her
She was distraught
Sonething I could not understand
How she could Care For me
Her exact words as clear as my horrible life was

I'm sorry that my poison is numbing the affects of the alcohol

Previously we made a deal
We said

we should both stop apologising

And as she Apologised I just said
Dont be dear one

She never asked why
I hoped she would
Because I want her to know that the poison that numbed the alcohol gave me the vitality to carry on

She is like my ecstacy

I talk to her and I love it

I get so high

On her comments

On her poems

On her words

On the way she says tge words

She releases all the tension

All the pain

But like all

Good

Drugs

There is a down side

After I take my dose

I need more

I need more of my pure rapture

That's what I'm calling this drug

The rapture of the orange princess

She choose the wrong ******* guy..

And the right guy is sitting right here....his hands cut and sliced from the shattered pieces of his heart that crumble in his palms
He doesn't seem to comprehend yet....that his heart is broken
That his pitiful attempts to put it back together only results in his blood spilling
His soul spilling
His life spilling

Shall we seek the variations between the pen and the brush?
And a long journey it is
Long and winding
Like the meandering path of a pen
Continously fickle marks,
Trickled onto the page
By a thin reedy man
Pretentious preservation of seemingly inconsequential information
Unlike the brush it is steady and small pain
The brush casts vast swathes of colour about it
Wild uncontrolled vortexes of pure passion
Powered by the fire of the caster
Energetic excitement epitomising the intention of the information
Wild and Free
A powerful and crippling instantaneous pain
Lasting only briefly
Shall we seek the variations between the pen and the brush?

The sun sets
It marks me
Not just me
But the world
As it shines through the clouds
Piercing their veils
It shows me
Shows me more than ever before
I see the world In a strange clarity
In a manner I have never seen it before
I look forward
I resent the past
But now there is only the future

when i **** somebody
i lose a part of me
and that is what i want
to some people that might seem strange
and reading this
i might seem like a sociopath
and i probably am
but  i felt i just had to explain
not really to you
but to me
because i need it
just to keep myself sane
,if a sociopath truly can  be sane,
so here i go explaining this to you as you are tied to this  chair
the best way i can explain is i see and know everything
well not everything
but too much
way too much
and as i see these things i feel them
i feel it all
all their lies
pains
insecurities
i guess i would call myself the ultimate empathiser
and because i see and feel all of these things
i have to loose them
and the only thing that works
is to steal a life
and let it haunt me
and attack me
and steal parts of me
and that makes me survive
so this is why you are about to die
why i am about to **** you

DEFENITION:*
A SWIRL OF EMOTIONS RUSHING AROUND INSIDE OF YOU EXHAUSTING YOU PHYSICALLY AND MENTALLY

It can be dangerous*

She whispered this as I helped her
Choked her
Poisoned her

You know how people say 'I cry everyday'
Im not like that I
should cry everyday
but I don't allow myself to

I am in constant battle with myself.
Emotions vs. Rationalization

And every time my emotions win they send me to hell until rationalization or forgetfullness pulls me back

My emotions say things like 'your useless'
'nobody loves you'
'you should die'
and I know these are lies but the thing Is that coz I know they are lies it hurts even more that I would betray myself like that
And this happens all the time
When rationalization wins im sane for a while but I know it won't last long becsuse the emotions become more while my rationalization is constant.  Strong but constant.  
So I wait in constant fear of when it boils over. In fear of the pain my fuckedupness will cause others coz my emotions control me and say nasty things to others. And seeing your pain hurts me
And you may not hate me but my emotions hate me.  
And if I hate someone I cause them pain because I dont easily hate someone.
So this is me
This is who I am



And I hate it

There are two aspects of my life

MY SHAME

AND

**THE REST

The animal is close
Close by me
Close by my heart
Willing to give it all up just to have a bite at my pitiful half heart
Torn
Broken
And I carry on
I do not know why
Its a long endless sriver that flows in a circle
Yet I still swim and I dont know why
I drown
Yet live
I swear I could drink the entire river and still not die
So I carry onnswimming rather than drowning
The latter seems better though

There is always somebody taller...somebody darker, more mysterious, better body, better kisser...
"Where do I fall short?" You ask yourself a hundred times. "Wherr is it that I was not good enough for you?"
You shout to the Angels, to heaven, to God, to nothingness. You shput because 1: you hope that maybe she will hear you and 2: Emotions such as this just aren't compatible with a calm quite and civil voice. You shout because a whisper cannot properly contain the pain you feel. A cup cannot hold the water destined for a jug.
Then, when nothing shouts back,  you liquify your pain...condense your emotions into tears and pour them into a chamber in your heart labelled: Heartache. Unfortunately that room is broken...Unfortunately that room leaks. And despite all your 'manly' efforts to not let your emotions betray you, the tears leak out of your hands and onto a page,  into a poem, onto a painting, interwoven into a drawing. Art depicting the day you heal; a distant dream... And as long as your hands are more porous than your eyes you shall never heal. As long as your eyes remain painfully Dry and your smile sincerely deceptive you shall never heal. So you wait...You wait till your pencils become blunt and your brushes obsolete. You wait until the emotion pushes against your being do violently a smile seems to tear into your very reasons for living. You wait until happiness seems a dream. And you know that these emotions are not meant to be within you... a cup cannot hold the water destined for a jug yet you hold what you know is not meant for you. So you collapse... physically, emotionally, mentally and in every conceivable way...You collapse. You break. You become a shell, a shdow of the man you used to be as the sluices in your eyes finally open and you cry. Your pain cascades down your face and mixed in between the heartwrenching sobs and the muffled choking you find a new emotion. One you've never felt before. Yet you know that it was there all along, waiting to be released. And as the personified memory of her swaying figure walking away from you appears so does the emotion. Written, nay, Burned in big red letters above her shrinking figure.
ABANDONED!
And you snap! A broken man snaps. He cries now more viciously than ever before. He stumbles to the cupboard to get a drink and proceeds to drink until those painful red letters disappear in a haze of inebriation. In a drunken stupour you grab the word and wrestle it into submission. You chuck the cursed word into another chamber in your heart labelled: Latet. Meanwhile the jagged A split your skin. The pitiless B ripped open your muscles. The cursed word is subdued, but not defeated. The cursed word left you with wounds and they are clear to the world around you. They expose/subject you to humiliation...To cruelty...To despair......
And all of this caused by a single girl. A girl who...Did not mean to hurt you. She did not mean to break you. Yet you sit on the floor, the wine mixing with angry mutterings of how much you miss her. Then you cry. Again. But this time you heal. This time the tears flow into the cracks in your soul and convince you that you'll be okay. They convince you that there will be a better day after this...That one day you will find the girl that will have another word burned above her head as she walks towards you....
*LOVE

I look at the picture
And I see her hair
Dark
Black
Cascading down the sides of her face like a black churning waterfall
Black
A deep black
So deep it drags me into her charmfulness

But this is not what catches my eyes

I see her beautiful eyes
Cast in an enchanting gaze
As if she can see farther than us all
The shadows perfectly frame her eyes
And that tiny dot of reflection within seems to be the gateway to the most intricately beautiful soul ever

But this is not what catches my eye

I see her full luscious lips
Covered in lavish red lipstick
Her lips are slightly parted as she seems to yearn for something
The sense of earnestness about her multiplied tenfold
Just by parted lips

But this is not what catches my eye

I see her left shoulder exposed by her shirt that elegantly shows her subtle skin tone
Her black hair juxtaposed perfectly next to her dark olive brown skin
Her shoulder tantalizingly flaunts its beauty to the world
Daring any and all to defy her beauty

But this is not what catches my eye
No
What catches my eye is her neck...

The black waterfall of hair
The bright reflection of her soulful eyes
The vivaciously earnest red lips
The tantalizing olive brown shoulder
Combine to form what I have come to think of as a Goddess of beauty on this earth
They all seem to point to her neck and show where her true beauty lies for me
It makes me realise that this time it's different
I could run my hand through her hair a million times
I could stare into her soulful eyes for hours
I coukd kiss her beautiful lips a million times
I could carress her flawlessly smooth shoulder until I form calluses
But I would forgo all of that if she would just let me rest my head on her shoulder
Against her neck
Where I would feel safe
And enough
And adequate
And beautiful

Yes
Indeed
It is her neck that catches my eye

I look at the picture
And my gaze falls upon your hair
Dark
Black
Hair that cascades down the sides of your face like a black churning waterfall
Black
A deep black
So deep it drags me into the embrace of your ravishing beauty...

...but this is not what commands my gaze.

I look at the picture
And my gaze falls upon your eyes
Sparkling
Riveting
Eyes that enchant me
The dark shadows of that perfectly frame your eyes
Highlight the tiny dot of contrast within
That seems to be the gateway to the most intricately beautiful soul
That I have ever had the blessing to bear witness to...

...but this is not what commands my gaze.

I look at the picture
And my gaze falls upon your lips
Lucious
Red
Lips slightly parted
As you seem to yearn for something
Your sense of vivacious earnestness
Multiplied tenfold
Just by those subtly parted lips...

...but this is not what commands my gaze.

I look at the picture
And my gaze falls upon your shoulder
An elegant
Subtle
Olive-brown skin tone perfectly juxtaposed against your charcoal black hair
Your shoulder tantalizingly flaunts itself
Daring!
Any and all
To defy your beauty...

...but this is not what commands my gaze.

No.

What commands my gaze is your neck.

Your black waterfall of churning hair
Your bright soulful eyes
Your vivacious earnest red lips
Your tantalizingly olive-brown shoulder
All combine to form
An absolute
GODDESS
of beauty
They all point towards your neck
They all seem to show me where your true beauty lies
It makes me realize that this time it's different

I could run my hand through your churning black hair a million times
I could get lost in your soulful gaza day after day
I could kiss your lavish lips every second of my day
I could carress the flawless perfection of your shoulder until my hands foem calluses

But...

I would forego all of that
If you would but let me rest my head on your shoulder
Against your neck...
Where I wouls feel safe
And enough
And strong
And adequate
And beautiful

Yes
Indeed
It is your neck that commands my gaze

I love my earphones
Besides the music
And the occasional spark it CAN add to fashion

I love them because to a certain extent it lends me this sense of oblivious-ness..... (is that a word? )

I sit here in the airport and I think.....
I imagine
What his story is
And why she cried the last time she cried
It's a challenge to do this without the sound of their voice
But it's fun

Lets write something together

For he wanted something to rremember

ok?

ill give my memories for the plot

are you serious?
For they trusted each other so much that they knew

im scared to death but yeah

well in that case ill use my scars for the characters

some beautiful characters
For he saw the beauty in her pain

beautiful but painful

then ill use my tears for the flow of the story. Let them ease the pain

ill use my blood to stain it into the readers memory

can we use your memories.......

........ for what?

for the love

no 'tear'

ok.....

am i the only one that feels that hellopoetry is no longer the platform I fell in love with some years ago....