There is an energy flowing through me
A fire to consume all things

An electricity from the top of my head to the tips of my fingers

The need to create
The need for words to pour out like water from a dam

Words to change the meaning of creation
Words to end time itself

But pen goes to paper
and it drops dead.

The Veil has been lifted.
Why then, can I still not see?

There are whispers. Shadows.

Can you not feel it down your back?
The wind that is not wind?

That which you can feel but not touch
That which you can only see with your eyes closed.

I saw you standing in a storm

The rain dripped from your fingertips and in your eyes was the echo of distant thunder

A reminder that they were once a place where lightning used to flash and dance

But no more.

When "always" turned to dust and forever became the sound of the ticking clock and the silence in between

Tick

Tock

Tick

*Tock

Time is happening all at once.

The past.
The present.
The future.

At this moment we have not been born
And we have died.

At the same time,
The past has never happened
And the future never will.

Still it drags on, moment by moment
The future becomes the present becomes the past.

The past exists only in our memories
The future only in our dreams.

I just remembered something

There was a boy. A boy who was friends with the boy who would hit me and threaten to **** me if he ever caught me with anyone else. A boy that threw knives and destroyed his house when he was blacked out drunk beyond all sense

In this state he was terrified of me. He would tell me that I had the face of an angel but eyes like the devil. And when I'd smile he'd go mad. The boy told all of his friends not to **** with me.

Look at that smile. There's something about her. Don't **** with her.

When he was sober the boy would forget all about it. Look upon me once again as the angel.

I think that's because the rational part of his mind took over.

When he was intoxicated all that remained of his senses were primal instincts. Like ***. And fear.

And he knew what he saw when he looked at me.

He said he was relieved that we were compatible sexually

And I knew then that he wasn't thinking about the way his fingertips ran across my body like the surface of the water

It's just a reminder that I'm the only one who would compare the way I arch my back at his touch to a flower turning and facing the sun to be  caressed by it's warm rays

It's like he's told me that he likes the shade of my skin but mentioned nothing of its softness or the way it melts so perfectly into his

His lips on my skin say they love me but everyone knows that lips lie