Intrinsic Self
July 14 2014

The more I put myself out there, the more I realize I belong there.

Parched

My heart is drying up, I fear,
And my love has become bereft.
Will I ever slew these bars,
That so imprison my chest?
When will this tomb of butterflies
Be let out into the sun?
When will I ever meet the soul,
I am to call my one?

I fear You

I don’t think I am worthy of perfection such as you

and I hide behind my distance; a way to self subdue

from hurtful longing; of a love I might deserve

a love so deep and pure; Id do anything to preserve.

Then there is the thought that you might deserve more

look at me someday and suddenly abhor

who i am and what i have become

and then who will pick up the pieces in the days thereafter from?

You get what You give.

I am a sorceress of emotion,
A reader of inner intentions,
And will hold you mercifully acountable.

I will burn for you brighter than the sun,
Worship the feet that carry your soul,
Will reward your presence with mine.

Or I will be an echo of yesterday,
In the darkest chambers of your heart,
Un admittedly there evermore.

smeared reality

What a life
To never be fully aware
To accept lies as truth
Fiction from reality
Never being honest with yourself
Never seeing what’s really there.

Lies to yourself hurt more
Because deep down you know you are justifying something that’s not real.

I’d rather see the ugly truth than a pretty lie
A mirage of hope, doomed to fail.
Let me see reality through clear lenses,
Un -smeared by your bullshit

My cousin Helen, who is in her 90s now, was in the Warsaw ghetto during World War II. She and a bunch of the girls in the ghetto had to do sewing each day. And if you were found with a book, it was an automatic death penalty. She had gotten hold of a copy of ‘Gone With the Wind’, and she would take three or four hours out of her sleeping time each night to read. And then, during the hour or so when they were sewing the next day, she would tell them all the story. These girls were risking certain death for a story. And when she told me that story herself, it actually made what I do feel more important. Because giving people stories is not a luxury. It’s actually one of the things that you live and die for.
 Neil Gaiman (via jaynestown)
I pity the jaded self

It’s like you pretended to be someone you wanted to be and that’s the person I fell in love with.

When the real character flaws surfaced.. you were exposed.. seen for what you are and that’s not good enough for you.
You want to be loved as someone you aren’t
And you will only be loved for who you are if you don’t play someone else’s part.

The World Today

Conglomerate
of
cowardly
Cash
cows
Corruptly
ceasing
Creativities’
covenant.

I want you to take shelter in me.

Let me help you carry the weight of the world’s burdens

There is no need to carry it all on your own.

I’m here for you when you need me and even when you don’t.

I just want to be near you, care for you, love you.

Please just let me love you.

Touch me while I’m still beautiful,

While the dawn of age hasn’t quite yet faded,

While eager suppleness waits.

Kiss my lips while they still tremble,

Make me erupt with madness under your control,

Weeping with certain joy, I love you.

Kiss my soul while I’m still beautiful, my love.

Feel my power resonate within you, connect with me, Love.

Just kiss me while I’m still alive.