She told me it's unwise for me,
To be close to her,
She asked me to flee,
From her hellfire,
That's what she claimed to be,
A living hell,a moving disaster,
Yet,I stay committed to sinning,
Maybe my soul desire to be a king,
On her surface,
And get closer to her fiery grace,
I don't want to part ways,
Still longs to be amazed by her face,
Still crave to be stunned by her gaze,
Want her shoulder as a place for my head to rest,
Even if it's hotter than a furnace.
I'm so sick of doubt
The miserable life
That we all lead
And the lies
That we feed
Our children with
Same old story
Everyday and every night
Chained to our jobs
We are not free
From our own thoughts
Which leads nowhere
I'm so happy
Cause I know the truth
And the wise words
Of prophets and saints
This will end
In my grave
I'll be at peace
And only then
I will be free
And I will forever be
In your memory
In your memory.
I will make a mirror
with your love
in my little heart
and I will always see you
on that secret mirror
when you will be apart!
I will make nature beautiful
with your memory
on my tired eyes
then I can see you
and your imagery.
Yeah, I will do this
I make a promise!
If you forget me forever
and don't love me anymore
then it'll make me happy
and takes away all my fears
but no one can see
how much pain is in my broken heart!
Sweet, it'll bring me too tears
they can make a salty sea!
And now it strikes
Like the first blizzard
After the last unexpected melt
From the last blizzard
I waited so long with only one
Single crystalline wish
For it finally to be over
But now that it is
I find myself with nothing
Apparent to look forward to
And long for the days
When I still missed you
Fuck this whole.
I realize that there is more elegance and eloquence to vocabulary but right now the only works that can escape my lips are
Oh. And fuck you, too.
Sitting here sick
Sick and damn tired of this shit that life keeps throwing my way.
And I just deal with it...
Because I 'have to'.
Why the fuck do I 'have to' be here? I didn't chose this. I didn't ask to be alive, ask to be conscious. I don't want to be here. I don't want to do this. I don't want to wake up each day and breathe and live and work and cry and sleep.
I'll keep that one.
Its nice to sleep. There's nothing else to worry about. A sweet serene oasis of mine. A place where I don't answer to the shit of other people.
I give it back. All of it. It doesn't work right. It never did. It never will. People say that I should be happy for the things I have and I say to those people...
Fuck your standards of what I 'should' do or feel or know. Fuck your opinion on how I treat myself. Fuck your decision that my life is worth saving because so what. I don't want it. I return it. Take it back and give the whole thing to someone else who wants it.
But make sure you ask them first. Ask them if they want this life. Ask them if they desire to drudge through each day just to make it to the next. Ask them if they want the self-loathing, air of desecration that lingers all around me. Ask them if they'd love to know, everyday, what it feels like to have people NOT choose you over and over and over again. Because I'm sure, if you ask them ...
They'll want to return this life, too.
Fine things lining pockets
And flawed gems from a faucet
It took a month to mar the clauses
long forgotten fiends and flowing
Nature lost scenery
It might be menial, but if I don't like the imagery
I'd use a run on and run on, running on
Fumes like carbon clouds, bowing at the center
Of the hopelessness I've found
Of moths and flame, danger and wanting
Nature and harboring diseases and watching
Crystalline precipices overblown from cold
Rain, eroding stone long since lain
Homes blown through in half a day
Another half century laid waste
Forage a new course for the streams
The selfish, like me only disagree
Despite the discontent
Restless nights and fires burning low
Into the biting air, a show of flair
Its not right, or fair to vent
Hollow, it would seem
Still stable, the ecosystem of
Trying to be heard over a flood of filth
Tidal waves painting fields
Recessing long since venerated guest
Retaking ocean lost to sandy beaches
And kids with half a dream left in them
I spent my last penny on a whim
I Was Thinking About… Orgasms
I was thinking well,
That orgasm is just orgasm:
That and only that.
Is all the fuss about?
It’s over when it’s over.
Then it’s over.
What is wrong with us?
Making all that fuss?
I knew that many years ago.
And so, I thought I’d share this piece of wisdom: wisdom’s peace.
I don’t imagine any creatures
In the world of nature
Go around with fantasies.
They’re made to do it upside down and right side up
Sideways, frontways; ways that burp and slurp and cup;
After courting, both exhausted,
Nothing forced, small joust completed,
There’s an end.
Splendid seconds or whatever,
He goes his way, never thinking back with fever.
Neutral fact, passing act,
Org-astic yes, fantastic –
But at best, an instant.
I Was Thinking About Orgasm 12.6.2017 Circling Round Eros II; Arlene Corwin
* orgasm |ˈôrˌgazəm|
a climax of sexual excitement, characterized by feelings of pleasure centered in the genitals and (in men) experienced as an accompaniment to ejaculation.