Open Love, Open Lover
Aug 29 2025

Love, unlatched, flows wild and free,
A tide swell
eternally.
No walls, no bounds, no narrow gate,
It greets each soul, disarms all hate.

A lover stands, both near and far,
A mirror, a flame, a guiding star.
Not just one face, but countless found,
In whispers soft, in earth profound.

Love is the echo, love is the call,
The rise, the stumble, the grace in fall.
It grows and moments shared and still,
A force beyond fleeting will.

Oh, lover, come hands unclosed,
Let fear dissolve, let hearts expose,
For open love, no chains tether

A union fierce, yet light feather
Through time, through po. , through joy untold,
In open love, we were young”, we are old.
Not mine, not yours, but ever ours,
A sky unending, full of stars.

Oh silly me, where do i start?
I need to start at a certain part.
I think i know,
So now lets begin.
As I walk freely,
The wind tingling my skin,
I begin to feel cold,
And the lights in my eyes dim low.
I stop against a tree, and i slide down,
Nice and slow.
I place my hands beside me, the grass tickling my skin
Then the rain trickling begins
“Why in this moment?” I ask, my mind starts to race.
I try to breathe slowly, trying to pace,
But now i can’t quite,
stay wide awake.
The wind turns cold,
My skin starts to quake,
I might just freeze at this rate.
I slowly snake down, letting my full body rest,
Now on this damp ground, I breathe in and out with my chest
As my pace of breathe softens,
And so does my heart.
Tears trickle down my cheek,
Now here, I feel like i'm at my peak.

Man denkt sich gern den Tieren überlegen;
Dem farbenfrohen Wald der andren Welt.
Doch lebt man nicht vom Wein, nicht von den Reben.

Dem Menschen ist der Intellekt gegeben,
Von Jupiter zum Götterwerk erwählt.
Man denkt sich gern den Tieren überlegen,

Mit den Maschinen, die uns hoch erheben,
Hoch über jedes Vogels Himmelszelt.
Doch lebt man nicht vom Wein, nicht von den Reben.

Der Wolf regiert — wenn auch auf andren Wegen —
Indem er uns das Reh in Menge hält.
Man denkt sich gern den Tieren überlegen;

Denn jedes andre Tier versucht vergebens,
Zu haben, was das Menschentier erhält.
Doch lebt man nicht vom Wein, nicht von den Reben.

Deshalb muss man für andre Tiere leben,
Weil sonst auch unsre Menschenwelt zerfällt.
Man denkt sich gern den Tieren überlegen,
Doch lebt man nicht vom Wein, nicht von den Reben.

Can sweeping moths settle,
Sink neatly, swathed by shadow
Onto lightly curling leaf.

On white fluorescent light
They are blinded, and
Are spun in carousel circles.

My light blinds me too,
Keeps my eyes spinning
In carousel circles.

I had Fluttershy in my hands and her friends on the tv.
As I sunk into the couch, I felt warm, comfortable.
The affair all too familiar and unremarkable.
To such a degree, I didn't notice the hot liquid running down my neck, pooling in my lap.
Didn't take note of the way my breath caught, the way my heart tumbled.

It wasn't until my eyes snagged on yours, did the sensations begin to rain down, pelting me.
It wasn't until my eyes fell on your bloodied mouth, did I lift a trembling hand to graze my neck. And when it came back soiled red, time slowed.

I watched red lips part to reveal sharp teeth dirtied with chunks of my flesh.
I started to wonder if your teeth were always that sharp, or if someone held you down and chipped away at the white, until all that remained were the daggers I saw before me.

As I finished my thought, you spoke,
"Why do you look so frightened?"

I wanted to spit fire back and burn you alive.
But I had quickly found that your teeth had strummed my vocal chords.
I'd later see them in a jar, treasured on your shelf, along with many other pairs, sodden in formaldehyde.

I looked down at fluttershy, now laying in my lap.
She looked to be a mirror of what I assumed my neck looked like, or lack thereof.
Covered with a heavy red that seeped in her skin and suffocated her mane.
The kindness spilling out of her, only to make room for anguish disguised as apathy.
I would never play with her again, even if I grieved for her in silence.

Now I walk around with a gaping wound that tends to spill when I'm alone.
I wish that I saw just a clawed and morbid creature in my memory, because I also see eyes filled with despair and desperation.

A creature so pitiful it crawls on its hands and knees, dragging its limbs, only to reach the peaks of escapism.
A creature so pathetic, it fumbles with lighters, melting crayons to paint pain in pastels.

Sometimes I like to pretend its eyes are filled with regret too.
But I'll never truly know, will I?

As I look into your eyes there's always signs that temper my soul. To ease my tensions as the paradox of my passions. Stay with me to be part of my fashion with you my love. Let my nights be cold if I'm not lying next to you. Then let my mornings be blue if our love isn't true when I'm never with you. Let my feeling's be  part of my desire. As my heart feels up with a passionate fire. Knowing you tell me the truth without any lies. When my obsessions rule my mind then let it only be in our sessions of tender loving cuddles and kisses. Because you are my only Mrs. Leaving only our love rendered in our souls to show us the meaning of our lives.