The Stay

I gave you a piece of me, with little hesitation, only to satisfy my character's perception of a wait...subconsciously knowing you'd wait no time...I had to follow protocol tho, right? At least the 9-5 human believed so and who would want to jeopardize a tailored reputation? Hemmed up by the finest lectures and creased with legendary alumni. I left all of that there tho. All of that...mostly the fear behind his non-refundable reservation to vacate deformed and weighed down comfort...Not caring about any other occupants, simply the stay. Sim-ply-the-stay, the stay of frayed ends...yet an end frayed by the heat she felt when her comfort took a seat next to what was presented to be free, over and over again. Pushed over and over again, building pieces into parts, setting apart the differences in each person that lays there to stay...stays until it's sunny and blame dissipates...aware that it never will, so dreams just pray until reality visits one day...reproofing what reality had written in fine print that very first day.

The Morning After

Hilton's cozy duvet hugged me as laid on my side wondering how to begin an expression short of periods, full of commas, layered with question marks, yet topped with exclamations. This Sunday served as the morning after, the morning after I tasted my own dessert. For the first time, I became engulfed in an unbelievable mouth-watering delivery that stole my words and colored me red. My security placed a comma to mask my reaction, but my heart couldn't portray it straight.

Absent of my strength, the chef noticed the beat skipping freely on the sidewalk of my descending aorta, so in an effort to erase the uncommonly and stabilize pressure, I smiled timidly and muffled, It was impeccable. (I know that was unexpected, but he was unexpected and his darn good dessert was unexpected, and now these butterflies are expecting, expecting me to feed them. )

The morning after entered the past, leaving crumbs so that the present would find its way back if I slept with denial, giving him the part of me I protect not. Hoping to forget how his eyes reached for words that belong to me, delicately experiencing my energy...I'm weak, exclamation mark...around him. My letters stumble downward, as unfamiliarity expends my reservoir...so what I typically say, isn't so typical anymore, leading me back to the morning before...before I let go.

All So Familiar

Denial raped me, thinking I was a virgin to reality and the benefits panned out to be painless, painfully strangling my pride. And if I was asked where's my pride, I'd say I lost it at birth. Humble beginnings lusted over me, lustering my demeanor...and I'm her. Mazed to amaze how this class became an 8'oclock after midnight and transparency is still lost. Clarity became an option and the decision wasn't made, or was it? The answer lies in discovering how my sheets folded over tightly among the solar system... To be without any earthly idea, I became constrained to the bed I seemingly made for myself. For once, I was a heavenly body revolving about the sun, shining son, clothed in his own, among the stars...a withdrawn me connected so naturally, my heart spilled and I slipped on the dampened floor. He must've been here before, it couldn't be his first time. And as the neurons in my brain race to support the thought of searching for a reason, I open my eyes.

Bored in lecture

This ratchet blabber is related to the keenest slice of misunderstanding...
Wiping away every since that makes it since the time is so raping...

Not my guts, but my brains, ha brains, I don't give it. Wishing upon a focus, my star fell 59 seconds ahead of what's approaching my ears no mind trying to define and specify the not so understood function of this dude's lecture.

Toy Story

I can't believe they found me on aisle 5 of the toy section. As if there were parts and/or pieces to assemble...Like like, two double A batteries are vital to my operation. Like like, there's a reset button located inside my chest that you press whenever there's a malfunction. Like like, you can buy "little outfits" to dress me and then undress me based off of your emotional verdict. Like like, I sing lullabies at the push of a soft spot to stroke that little ego you pressed on your cheek two weeks ago when you grew a few feet yo. Like like, I'm tattooed with a 10-digit SKU and the only breathe I experience is from you. Like like, you can position me for your sake, wonder away and come back for a double take. Make no mistake I'm no plastic fake, neither am I some game you purchase to play. My words, they come simple and straight so your mind won't have room to parlay. Like Like, the seriousness shown in my face when this shell speaks and my mouth doesn't move. Like like, the demand that grabs attention when randoms walk by just to listen. Like like, the rules I set about the one rule - NO REGRETS. Like like, the way I take the richest soil from my soul to make sure your dreams are never malnourished. Like like, how I reach out to physically touch the unattainable concerning you, only because I learn best with my hands. I say, I'm NO game my "friend", so don't look for any parts or pieces. Respect me as a woman and it'll sign the leases. It's like like that!

finished Bipolar

Bipolar

Today I woke up to a melodic tone escaping my phone, ready to address the usual. Usually lacking the set to reset my mind, needing folded hands giving reverence, Lord I pray for consistency. Amen! They stepped on matted letters outside of my front door to welcome what's next as I smile to confuse what looks scrambled. This must have been an up because I pulled up to a mouth filled with rewrapped plans, lined with embrace, and glossed with a touch of red greet. I knew this wasn't new and my mind knew that this beating shell shape had reached the sell by due date... It was spoil. Nevertheless, the fact that failure. had relocated further away from success somehow convinced me to expect a good turnout. And what turned out to be a turnout led to another let down. No first, just down and the commentators said he carried the ball well. This was no Saturday night game or was it? I question this and my answers become scrambled once again, wiping away those greetings that were intended for waves. Hello to another day or days polar sway...sometimes short of the option to choose between North and South...Either way, I'm never prepared. I hate this bipolar piercing stare given when I walk into the courtroom of your conscious blare. And I can hear it...you think I'm crazy, don't you? Now before the jury examines this bipolar relationship do me a favor and step away from my naturally lined lips. BC this did all start with just a kiss.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

What’s your next line - Facebook

What’s your next line - Facebook



Dominique C writes: Racing against a shoeless thought

Echo E writes: I'm suddenly reminded of battles fought

Travis R writes: Lost half, learned most: all thanks to the Host?

Dominique C writes: Or not? He ponders beneath the web, wide-eyed to tell a direct recollect bag of imaginations; many afloat, neither heads or tails, shot down by truth or tortured with nails; posting a chance to evaluate the sanity it entails...just one thought, bare foot thought...iron rail wrought by the impersonators that dream his last thought, wondering what bought the sells he foretell in just a simple thought he thinks one kilometer away...

J Goody writes: distant is the soul of the journeyman, perhaps? what lies beneath the wrap, doesn’t make sense...but it doesn't have to...

Dominique C writes: Because you digress in the process of clicking through his success; supporting the systems that lock up the floating words that were once thoughts, through dumbbells, mustering imaginations and soon dreams. Are things really what they seem or did his thoughts sprint from his dreams?