Lost Love Lust

Tags: purpose

• return policy.

  Under the warm water I find my silence.
  No thoughts or repercussions,
  Just the quiet, yet lively sound of my heart beating, and my lungs breathing.
  My writing is nothing.
  My art? Impressive only to the masses that approve at quick glance.
  My soul? Disapproving and profusely rebellious.
  Hidden.
  Shown at rare occasions where vulenerability doesn’t play its typical role.
  I’m a writer. A painter. A [...]

• propriety.

  To innocently log onto this technological piece of paper once more.
  To give out thought, feeling, suppression.
  Like the drawing of blood from the mind and soul, to write is a passion, a frustrating
  yet beautiful obsession.

  Perhaps a flower, that takes much time to fully blossom.
  Often it can show realistic desire, or endless dreams in-accomplishable.
  But in end, for what [...]

• two slices of lemon, please.

  10 Years from now.
  I see myself wearing a very funky scarf in a stylish cafe, smoking a cigarette and reading a pamphlet to the newest art showing that month.
  I see myself in a modern minimalist apartment cooking rice and listening to acid jazz.
  Painting on a balcony in a Paris loft with flowers running down the sides of it.
  Sporting [...]

• banal & dominance.

  A CD repeats as the distinct pattern to her high heels fill the tiles with resonance.
  Dear Lust, a bit of fun perhaps?
  Why yes dear, of course. Would be quite the pleasure.
  Introduce fierce look in the eye and the convincing innocence of kindness.
  Local sports bar of Kingman, the dark wood on the bar catches her eye.
  Contemplating [...]