Her sapphire eyes gaze yonder through the steam dissipating aloft, like a transparent veil. Behind which her face peers through the dark sleek hair that runs down her face and around the contours of her bosom: the way the light aluminates off her wet pail flesh; as the water beeds down her neck, around her curves, and over the pink nipples which are perched perfectly amidst each breast, as if to stand gaurd to a pure heart. There she is with the water girdled around her waist – the skin shimmers beneath, from her posterior (where her hands lay aside), down her crossed legs as she lays back upon a handsome rock at the brink of the pool: in the perfect stature of a lady. Keen eyes are not needed to see the beauty in such a portrait. Such an aw-ing picture should infer an immense and mighty lust deep in any man. A lust that can bring a man back to his primitive and savage roots, that craves to romp like a beast in the wild – rough and without restraint – skin to skin, luscious, naked and whole.
Beer more beer, water’s for queers.
Let’s hear a cheers for bottomless beers.
Watch my dreams succeed while I’m swimming in mead.
You say I can’t? Well I’m full of cans.
So I’ll consume every can cantly for all you can’ts.
In shadow dreams
No color of skin, nor mien
Walk around consuming, tasteless eatings;
Void of feelings
Yet hanker for the ‘greater things’
When nothing’s really what it seems
Pretentious luxuries the world fiends.
A pariah born by no mother, searching for a purpose, a reason
Wanders in the shadows of the unseen
Lost amongst the developing chaos of masked entities.
A heart – that’s a clock run backwards; beating – to the end’s beginning
To recapture a child’s bliss and arrant freedom.
The eye’s perception of happiness fled, disappeared in the midst of all the horror dispersed infinitely throughout the mind. Nightmares bestowed upon me day and night, nothing left but a hollow glaze deep into reminisce. A melancholic vibe lingers up my spine, as if to paralyze any state of recovery. Beneath it all furry flows through every vein, hate and rage consume the mind. The heart – stoned near to death, yet beats in defiance of letting go – defeat is not an option. Though joy has deceased as of now and the memories of horror will not depart from haunting me, there is something better to grasp onto, at least there can be nothing worse. So I sit and ponder, must I let go of the numbing substance that avails happiness for true joy to prevail once again? Some may say so, I do not know for sure. All I know is this: that it would be an excruciating line to cross, for the horrific memories that were blotted out and drowned by the tainted glass await to plague me again in sobriety. Yet to feel love and joy is to feel pain and sorrow, never one without the other.
Time between time.
When life slows down, to the clock’s last tick.
Life freezes in the unbearable shock of catastrophe.
Your mind’s entrapped in the one moment.
In reality time goes on:
As the earth rotates the sun,
And the rest of entities go on in their daily existence.
But your mind is paralyzed in the ferocious grip of the night’s horror;
Raped relentlessly by this nightmare; fluttering images flashing through the mind.
In later years, the most valid efforts of burial by hard drink are proven futile.
It has only engraved the desolation deeper into the darkest crevasses of the mind.τ
So the ensued alternative would be to surface the nightmare,
As to relieve or rid yourself of its paroxysms of a melancholy shadow cast over thy life.
Yet in spite of all the vigorous efforts of both – there is no way of escape; stuck in the moment –
Time between time.