1.
Who are you?
Every time I look out my window, I see you at your window looking back.
Not too long ago, I peered out.
You stood, doing something with a white object, looking back.
Sure, it could be exciting, that my sick impulses to be watched are fulfilled, but we've created an odd bond.
2.
My biggest fear is
not being myself or me
but being neither.
3.
Sitting by this window,
I want to see you.
I want to open my blinds and
find you standing and hoping
for a peek of myself.
Every time I visualise the situation,
you find a way to crawl into the picture.
There's not a time you're never there.
Physically, your presence is missing.
I tend to find this annoying.
Our connexion is broken,
unless you can figure out how to break this barrier between.
The decision isn't up to me, since I know what I want.
It's obvious what I want.
4.
I'm walking to there.
I don't know the reason why.
Maybe to a friend.
5.
I'm so frustrated.
I want to get nailed right now.
I know who I want.
6.
Perhaps you thought of this, also.
Can you imagine us together stripped bare of clothing in one piano room, after I exposed my garter to you and you kissed my thigh?
Can you imagine us together with your body pinning mine against the white walls, and my legs wrapped about yours? And our gasps?
Can you imagine us together my begging for you to do more touching that part, or more kissing that part, or more fucking that part?
Can you imagine us together with my hands on the piano seat and I-m bending over in front of you and you are fucking me and kissing my back?
Can you imagine us together and we're both screaming and making so much noise other people in that hallway are gathered around the door, listening?
7.
My body is a fire.
It is full of warmth and flames.
The wood limbs & red sparks fanned on by more tree parts and oxygen.
The earth is under me where I've staked my area,
where sand gets in-between the branches.
Slowly, I disappear into the air, leaving useless wood pieces.
Until then, fuel is going to keep being tossed at me.
I will be vibrant & alive.
8.
We need to talk soon.
Another problem came up.
I love you more now.
9.
You were my first love.
We met an odd way.
Someone was talking to me, while I was facing away.
While she spoke, I turned to her.
You were in-between us and stood in front of me.
I looked up at you.
You were smiling at me.
Your tall stature made me feel small.
I don't remember how overcome I was.
There was the most attractive male in the room in my presence.
Tall, glasses, red hair, t-shirt jeans.
I loved you then.
Do I still love you?
I don't know.
10.
The dress is crinkled.
Blue with creases down the back.
Plus, a side zipper.
11.
Parts of my history are coming back to remind me who I was before.
Today, I was given written accounts and stories that I've penned some time ago.
This past week, memories of a love have filled my talks.
I don't understand why I need these things lately.
Why now?
12.
I'm tired of having my heart broken.
I wish the universe would grant my wish for a man.
Some man who'll be faithful,
and could satisfy me three ways: emotionally, mentally & physically.
Experience not necessary.
Sweetness & patience a must.
Smokers and/or drinkers, a plus.
Red hair, an even bigger plus.
13.
There are two advantages to
having a boyfriend:
companionship and sex.
One can be solved by owning
a pet:
Puppy, kitten, animate or
inanimate.
The other can be solved by
& a vibrator.
Any questions?
14.
There has to be a reason for why you aren't interested.
If it's for my looks, than I have some advice for you.
GO FUCK YOURSELF!
15.
you know what i think.
it's only an opinion.
i hate your bald spot.
16.
when a brunette girl
lusts completely after you
you better be nice.
17.
Our chemistry sucks.
We don't compliment each other.
you have dark hair.
I have dark hair.
you wear glasses.
I wear glasses.
you're an arsehole.
I'm a bitch.
We aren't opposites,
We are sames.
18.
My weakness is kisses down the neck.
Nibbling down the nape.
It makes my thighs tingle & my mouth water.
Then again regular kisses do the same thing.
19.
The thing that inspires me is someone saying,
"No. You can't do it."
Of course, I can.
20.
Porno excites me.
people screwing each other
i wish it was me.
21.
In the cool darkness of the room, two friends joked about.
The man pretended was the woman was his piano and played her imaginary keys.
She lay on her back, while his hands tickled her.
She momentarily held his hands to keep him from continuing.
He was starting to arouse her.
It got to the point that she wanted him badly.
Absentmindedly, she moved her arm near the area.
After a few teases, he let her lie there, while he undid his zipper.
The stuff they did to each other.
She went from blowing him to wrapping her legs around his neck.
I know exactly what ran through her head,
and how she felt through the details.
The woman is me.
22.
Whatever wishes I have,
they will never come true.
Neither the person or myself want them to.
Contrary to popular belief,
I don't spend all my time thinking.
I do tend to find myself where I can just sit there and do nothing.
The voices in my head are always conflicting.
Sometimes they're not even mine.
I don't know if I'm being telepathic or being incredibly delusional.
I could be either on the verge of a breakthrough
OR a breakdown.
Reading minds isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Sometimes it is something you don't want to know.
23.
The photograph of him smiling lay in front of the candles anointed with oils.
Candles of red and white, plus a single shaped one.
A candle in the shape of a human heart that is sliced in two halves, but tied together.
I pricked my finger and let it drip onto the photo.
An engraved cup of red wine was brought to my lips, which both hands held.
I set it down, then spit at the photo.
The wine diluted the blood, covering the photograph.
With the heart candle that shared one wick, I burned the photograph.
The blood and wine dripped onto the wax, while it burned.
The ash and human heart candle were shoved into a little fabric bag and tied, then tossed away.
24.
On the stage, I acted the part of me.
Some dramatic play was the script I had to follow.
There was a male lead and several supporting cast members.
We all revolved around the idea of some predictable love story.
Practice made us all stronger in who we pretended to be.
As soon as the lights were on and the drapes lifted,
our audience watched our reactions to each other.
A month after this stint, I got sick and had to lose my role to another woman.
The others had to keep being who they are,
while the other woman became me.
25.
He was in the middle of sleep when I walked into his room.
One pillow was under his head,
while another was tossed on the floor.
The pillow was small and fluffy.
It was white with smear marks.
Small pink streaks.
Upon close inspection, I found it to be lipstick.
Not my shade.
Being his girlfriend,
it angered me to find some stranger's lipstick there.
Holding the pillow in my hand, I walked over to him.
The gentle chest heaving, the gentle breaths, the sweet snoring & the sweet reclining posture.
I sat down next to him and watched for a few seconds.
Bending over, I sucked the last breath from his partially opened mouth.
He still slept.
I positioned the pillow
--lipstick side up--
and pushed it down.
Pillows can be fluffy, but they can also stifle.
Who are you?
Every time I look out my window, I see you at your window looking back.
Not too long ago, I peered out.
You stood, doing something with a white object, looking back.
Sure, it could be exciting, that my sick impulses to be watched are fulfilled, but we've created an odd bond.
2.
My biggest fear is
not being myself or me
but being neither.
3.
Sitting by this window,
I want to see you.
I want to open my blinds and
find you standing and hoping
for a peek of myself.
Every time I visualise the situation,
you find a way to crawl into the picture.
There's not a time you're never there.
Physically, your presence is missing.
I tend to find this annoying.
Our connexion is broken,
unless you can figure out how to break this barrier between.
The decision isn't up to me, since I know what I want.
It's obvious what I want.
4.
I'm walking to there.
I don't know the reason why.
Maybe to a friend.
5.
I'm so frustrated.
I want to get nailed right now.
I know who I want.
6.
Perhaps you thought of this, also.
Can you imagine us together stripped bare of clothing in one piano room, after I exposed my garter to you and you kissed my thigh?
Can you imagine us together with your body pinning mine against the white walls, and my legs wrapped about yours? And our gasps?
Can you imagine us together my begging for you to do more touching that part, or more kissing that part, or more fucking that part?
Can you imagine us together with my hands on the piano seat and I-m bending over in front of you and you are fucking me and kissing my back?
Can you imagine us together and we're both screaming and making so much noise other people in that hallway are gathered around the door, listening?
7.
My body is a fire.
It is full of warmth and flames.
The wood limbs & red sparks fanned on by more tree parts and oxygen.
The earth is under me where I've staked my area,
where sand gets in-between the branches.
Slowly, I disappear into the air, leaving useless wood pieces.
Until then, fuel is going to keep being tossed at me.
I will be vibrant & alive.
8.
We need to talk soon.
Another problem came up.
I love you more now.
9.
You were my first love.
We met an odd way.
Someone was talking to me, while I was facing away.
While she spoke, I turned to her.
You were in-between us and stood in front of me.
I looked up at you.
You were smiling at me.
Your tall stature made me feel small.
I don't remember how overcome I was.
There was the most attractive male in the room in my presence.
Tall, glasses, red hair, t-shirt jeans.
I loved you then.
Do I still love you?
I don't know.
10.
The dress is crinkled.
Blue with creases down the back.
Plus, a side zipper.
11.
Parts of my history are coming back to remind me who I was before.
Today, I was given written accounts and stories that I've penned some time ago.
This past week, memories of a love have filled my talks.
I don't understand why I need these things lately.
Why now?
12.
I'm tired of having my heart broken.
I wish the universe would grant my wish for a man.
Some man who'll be faithful,
and could satisfy me three ways: emotionally, mentally & physically.
Experience not necessary.
Sweetness & patience a must.
Smokers and/or drinkers, a plus.
Red hair, an even bigger plus.
13.
There are two advantages to
having a boyfriend:
companionship and sex.
One can be solved by owning
a pet:
Puppy, kitten, animate or
inanimate.
The other can be solved by
& a vibrator.
Any questions?
14.
There has to be a reason for why you aren't interested.
If it's for my looks, than I have some advice for you.
GO FUCK YOURSELF!
15.
you know what i think.
it's only an opinion.
i hate your bald spot.
16.
when a brunette girl
lusts completely after you
you better be nice.
17.
Our chemistry sucks.
We don't compliment each other.
you have dark hair.
I have dark hair.
you wear glasses.
I wear glasses.
you're an arsehole.
I'm a bitch.
We aren't opposites,
We are sames.
18.
My weakness is kisses down the neck.
Nibbling down the nape.
It makes my thighs tingle & my mouth water.
Then again regular kisses do the same thing.
19.
The thing that inspires me is someone saying,
"No. You can't do it."
Of course, I can.
20.
Porno excites me.
people screwing each other
i wish it was me.
21.
In the cool darkness of the room, two friends joked about.
The man pretended was the woman was his piano and played her imaginary keys.
She lay on her back, while his hands tickled her.
She momentarily held his hands to keep him from continuing.
He was starting to arouse her.
It got to the point that she wanted him badly.
Absentmindedly, she moved her arm near the area.
After a few teases, he let her lie there, while he undid his zipper.
The stuff they did to each other.
She went from blowing him to wrapping her legs around his neck.
I know exactly what ran through her head,
and how she felt through the details.
The woman is me.
22.
Whatever wishes I have,
they will never come true.
Neither the person or myself want them to.
Contrary to popular belief,
I don't spend all my time thinking.
I do tend to find myself where I can just sit there and do nothing.
The voices in my head are always conflicting.
Sometimes they're not even mine.
I don't know if I'm being telepathic or being incredibly delusional.
I could be either on the verge of a breakthrough
OR a breakdown.
Reading minds isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Sometimes it is something you don't want to know.
23.
The photograph of him smiling lay in front of the candles anointed with oils.
Candles of red and white, plus a single shaped one.
A candle in the shape of a human heart that is sliced in two halves, but tied together.
I pricked my finger and let it drip onto the photo.
An engraved cup of red wine was brought to my lips, which both hands held.
I set it down, then spit at the photo.
The wine diluted the blood, covering the photograph.
With the heart candle that shared one wick, I burned the photograph.
The blood and wine dripped onto the wax, while it burned.
The ash and human heart candle were shoved into a little fabric bag and tied, then tossed away.
24.
On the stage, I acted the part of me.
Some dramatic play was the script I had to follow.
There was a male lead and several supporting cast members.
We all revolved around the idea of some predictable love story.
Practice made us all stronger in who we pretended to be.
As soon as the lights were on and the drapes lifted,
our audience watched our reactions to each other.
A month after this stint, I got sick and had to lose my role to another woman.
The others had to keep being who they are,
while the other woman became me.
25.
He was in the middle of sleep when I walked into his room.
One pillow was under his head,
while another was tossed on the floor.
The pillow was small and fluffy.
It was white with smear marks.
Small pink streaks.
Upon close inspection, I found it to be lipstick.
Not my shade.
Being his girlfriend,
it angered me to find some stranger's lipstick there.
Holding the pillow in my hand, I walked over to him.
The gentle chest heaving, the gentle breaths, the sweet snoring & the sweet reclining posture.
I sat down next to him and watched for a few seconds.
Bending over, I sucked the last breath from his partially opened mouth.
He still slept.
I positioned the pillow
--lipstick side up--
and pushed it down.
Pillows can be fluffy, but they can also stifle.
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