I went on a nature walk
with no idea,
no preparation,
only to take some pictures.

At a certain point
I got lost
with no phone
no one but me,
my thoughts,
and the layers of
cold sunken through.

I had no idea where I was,
only faith that I would get out
at some point
if I kept going.

I forgot everything
except this poem, my camera, and my next step.

Fine arts is my major in school...I have enjoyed art, photography and of course writing ever since I was young; and I still do... I know this may sound odd but no matter the form of art; even if its just scribbled notes I keep all my rough drafts... My mom she calls me the "paparazzi" of the family...I am always snapping picture... Can you believe I have over 900  and counting; notebooks, sketchpads, and loose-leaf binders full of all my ideas, sketches and odd thoughts that may pop in my head?.. I've been collecting since I was 6 years old.... ART; any type was and still is my passion today...  I try to carry a notebook, sketchpad and my camera everywhere I go to jot down or capture the little things that come to my mind.... Sometimes my notes don't even make a bit of since but it is the creativity I put into them that makes it fun.... When ever I feel I've hit a writers or artist BLOCK I go through my notebooks.  I'm always seeing something inspiring that may take me to another world of imagination. I think I could probably write a book or two with all the thoughts I've collected..
Yep That's Me ... LadyBird

I knew this girl.
A beautiful girl.
Prettier than any other girl I had met.
She  was a one in a million kind of girl.
Not many were like her.
And she swore they all wanted to be her.
But I loved her nonetheless.

She took these photos, beautiful, magnificent photos.
I would look forward to them.
They provided a certain service for her.
They filled a void.
They were personal.
Artistic.
Special.
But they were not simply of her.
They were of her mind.
Her soul, her heart.

That girl.
One day she stopped taking those photos.
She lost her mind,
She lost her soul,
She lost her spirit,
She lost her will.
Her spark was gone.


To this day, I still miss those photos.

Okay turn

click

Lean back

click

okay let your hair down

click

now show your back

click

Hey Mr photographer,
can I see the camera?
okay here you go,
be careful though

knocks him down

okay now your my model and you'll do what I say!

see my ****?
yes?
well start to lick
licks
more in that place
**** it I'm riding your face
and when I pull it out your **** better match my pace
;)

A moment, captured
Perfectly
A detail, remembered
Sharply
A recollection, visualized
Clearly
A camera given a soul.

Filter the perfect shade of the forenoon sun,
Not too bright, not too dull.
For with ease and carefree thoughts,
You let the sunbeam-drizzling fairies play
As the beauty reflected in your retinas.

Capture this scenic view:
Where the burnt chestnut colored oaks
And mudstained sweetheart sundress of yours
Dance in three-four beats of waltz.
The Crayola strokes of the skies
And the watercolor streaks of daydreams and nightmares
Paint the canvas of your disquited thoughts.
This is the peripheral view from your suncrashed irises and corners,
This is your world.

Let your knees down to your sore feet
Be engulfed by the chasms of the bewildered grass,
As the smile makes it way to your plump spring lips;
Callused fingers from guitar strings
Twirl and twist the blades,
Cutting through flesh
And green and red and blue and yellow,
All sorts of color came spilling from your playful bruise.

From this panoramic view of yours
Of a wonder wonderland,
Where the ticks of clock
Follow the sunflower throughout time and forever,
This is the beauty of that stem:
A key to escapism
To a well-dreamt lovely world.

Nobody takes a picture of regrets they wish to forget.