This prison is a place where darkness only breeds
and the shadows dance with themselves,
playing tricks on my eyes, darting quickly across the walls
only to vanish upon my focused gaze.

I once caught a glimpse of these hypnotic specters;
cruel machinations of tortured souls revealed themselves
to be nothing more than corrupted reflections of myself
wandering aimlessly through a hall of mirrors.

These rooms were once traversable,
but now this maze is more twisted than my own intentions;
unheeded, unnoticed and smiling, like a knife in the dark
waiting for an opportunity to quell any ambitions
that may lead to freedom.

Strapped to a metal pedestal settled suspense,
Immensity measured and tethered by lust,
Must we divide and conquer inside; no longer a function of life,
A junction of strife in cities hidden from light,
Bid me goodnight, and rid me of this hideous sight,

Morals, the core of oppression, ingestion of thought,
Caught what was thought to be biologically right,
In spite of the might of indifference, this hindrance of soulful construction,
Social abduction, post-spoken eruption,
Advocating the case of natural basis of bonds,
Longing to wrong the call of the wild, all but a child,
Meanwhile, the style of trend takes a turn, bend break and burn,
Churning up thoughts from a mind at peace,
Find the beast and follow the least traversable way to converse.

False analogy calls imaginary lies,
Breaking the ties, hating the cries,
Tracing her eyes, creating these marked and darkened black skies.

The people I have affected,
as a car
Rolls over a road,
like a bulldozer,
I only hope they managed not to crack

At least I hope some of the concrete stayed in place.

I see some of them stable, yet
Others worry me beyond belief
I worry they are no longer recognizable,
No longer traversable
No longer what I remember

One cross section, of always, gives me fright
And to think I'll never need to go straight down that brown haired road again

Your heart knows the trail
that wanders along my lips
how you journey through
my ruggedness reclaiming
every outpost
as lovable, every seaside
as traversable

you navigate these complexities
weaving them between the fabric
of your hands,
your nomadic soul,
the great explorer to my new lands

you claim these soft sands
bathe from my waters
sleep beneath the flesh
of my stars

Smoke is flowing, and not the only thing that will do tonight, but you don't know that yet.

Your mind is playing tricks on you, or perhaps is the combination of the blue and orange lights in the lounge, with straight lines creating pleasant geometric shapes and curves breaking the pattern. She is the curve to your straight line, but you know that.

Beats get you moving, the restraints of the comfy couch make you get creative, your arms need to go somewhere and luckily for both, she is sitting right next to you.

There is only so much to go through in the environment, the pleasant lights that captivated you before become background, the same goes for the rythm, the people and you remember there is a game you like to play.

Simple rules, lots of fun, dopamine hits, temperature is rising slowly, the playing field is everything. You slide your hand behind her, underneath the jacket, under the shirt, skin on skin. From here you have a choice to make, either go inside her jeans or go around to the front under her bra, there is no wrong choice but it always looks like a casual waist grab to the spectator eye.

You take a sip at your drink, look around, make conversation, lock eyes with the waiter and waitress and give them a smile, they smile back, not knowing, but you know that.

A third option is now available as it requires a little bit of setup with some not-so natural movements. Your hand that holds a glass is now wet from the ice, your other hand is also in the process of getting wet, as soon as she does.

You both realize is not an easy task, at least not with people coming around and the room not being dark enough. It was a bit too daring to even try this version of the game, but you know that.

So you go back to the previous options, now you are kissing too. As people start leaving it creates short moments when nobody looks your way, you put her hand in your pants, she starts rubbing, she likes the thrill of the game as well. Everytime somebody looks your way, or the bartender is not busy preparing a drink, or the waiters are coming around, or somebody walks by the game stops and you adopt a casual pose.

You are now good at playing this game, arousal levels are getting somewhere, everybody else is also going somewhere, unfortunately it is because the lounge is closing. Things have to keep going, you cannot stop now. She says you should write about this, you are not much of a writer so your mind goes to photograph a moment to share the feeling of the moment. Now you instantly have a picture in your mind, she agrees to make it happen so you go find your spot.

Cars passing by in the street make the background, a dark street is your cover, she is your subject, you want her skin to be exposed but it's too cold for full exposure, even a bit risky with random strangers still out to find life in the night. You grab her, get your camera ready, kiss her to get her going, reach for her breast with your hand while she pulls her shirt, you make your shot, or 2. Not even 10 seconds later strangers pass by, good timing. The photos are good but not entirely satisfying, what now?

You walk together looking for a new spot that can work best for your vision. Corners, parking lots, apartment entrances, building stairs, dim lit parks, none are good enough. Then you see a small garage entrance or poorly designed building that leaves a gap big enough for a motorcycle, with what looks like a makeshift shed or bathroom, you don't really want to know what it is exactly, or you do, it is your spot.

You walk in first with your flashlight, it's not easily traversable in the dark. You both reach the end of it, immersing yourself in the dark created by two apartment buildings with at least 6 floors each. Just a meter away there is a window, if you take two steps in that direction you could see what was happening in that room as there was light coming out of it, a potential spectator thus you have to be really quiet. This time the way to proceed is taking it to the next level as you start to passionately kiss her, but you know that.

You help her undo your belt, she pulls your pants down, you ask her if it is alright for her to take a photo, or more. She agrees, but you already know that. Your hand is already reaching for the phone as the answer is given, something else is also starting to being given here.

The dark asks for a couple seconds for exposure purposes. Back and forth, right hand, no hand, you guessed right, the photo is blurry, too blurry, perhaps for the best but this is no moment to think artistically, video mode is now on.

You pan out to the street, back to her, grab her hair, push her head. Repetition. Intensity. Soon.

Keep recording but forget that you are doing it, sounds hard but hard makes it easier and you are really hard right now. You need to be quiet but the primal voice wants out, you hold it, you let your struggle be heard so she can be prepared. She is not prepared, it's too much for her, she turns to the side to spit your ***** and take some air, you hold another shot or two until she gets back to you, as soon as her mouth is there you shoot again, and again.

And again, this time she can handle it, you stop the camera, you completely forgot it was there in your hand. She helps you clean yourself up with her mouth, you help her stand up and finish cleaning yourself, what a clean job. It's not, her pants caught part of the load that she couldn't spit in time. As you regain your ability to properly walk you walk her home. Satisfaction for both, the cold has no matter in this ephimerous moment, now you know that.