Kismet is not Orange, But you do look marvelous in it...

Along the corner he traced his step, backward into the marginal silence of the night.
Clanging bottles. Bursts of laughter. A car horn. A siren.
And there was a silhouette, walking in a gliding, dance.
She turned and became a burst of shocking color.
A night-blooming flower, graceful and succulent.
And there he stood a flash of laughter, and 200 proof energy.
They paused briefly, for each to warm the other.
A crossing brief, tender, and light.

walk

along the virgin rock,

no highways have come to be,

patient schist lays dreaming,

centuries per second.

THEN,

at once awakened,

set aflight, then...

falling, falling.

Now,

metamorphoses of sand,

dust,

starstuff,

dream,

a second in a day.

AmplitudeAnteMeridianModulation

There is a station in the distance that only broadcasts pain. I follow it's broad highways into the wee hours of the mourning. Who hurt you DJ? Why do you keep playing 'One Headlight?'

But, that's not what you are really playing. You make pain seem like it has only brushed up against you, like the wind, silently in the night.

You smell like vanilla, a bruised and broken open fruit. What the masses call 'plain.' There is no truth in the hive, only propaganda. In truth, vanilla is the only edible orchid. A rare sustenance amongst pure desire.

But, that is where I hide; in cold trivia. I often ignore the warmth that I feel. Now to reach and confidently pluck. There I could, finally, separate myself from the vine.

Somewhere... maybe there.

Downstairs lies hope. In the dream of space and the final of my frontiers I look down. Solitude is hopeful, loneliness a curse. There is an edge so sharp and fickle, I must stand on it, baiting the ground to swallow me.
-"Fucking chickenshit earth!"
It doesn't take my dare.
I walk back to the stately hallows of my manor and sleep until my eyes are sandpaper.
Then, I drink, until I cannot walk.
Then, I furiously masturbate, until the seed stains every wall.
Yep, here's to the end of the world.
It was such a big one.

my thoughts on a lady who just crossed my thoughts and who has been, for quite a while

So, ha; you have bought into it.

My perversion of wrapping my mind around you thoughts, to keep you arguing, specifically with me. To see you arguing with anyone else brings me low. As I suspect that their wits do not match up well against yours (lalala, they be dumbkopfs), but I still see you letting them win. It's obvious to me. I can't stand it.

I once had poetry to describe you. This is what is left: poetry, (as I am not quite sure what will or might change). We disagree so closely.

Realizes that October is a long time ago and that the rain has started to come down.

October is gone and so are the leaves of a year, the pages also turned and spent. They are now dirt striding under the heels of boots, gone adventuring into spring.

I wonder about the spring and its dawn, now that its dawn is here, now.

Before, 'twas just its hope, and now it's the reality of the alchemical reactions of composting, the nitty-gritty of nature; although today I thought even deeper, folding space-time into itself.

This maybe as much reality as I am willing to unleash unto the world.

I'm in a box of mine own and of natures making.

Give thanks.

She stood behind the fire's light as it itself into the unknowing void of ashes. Her face lit dimly. The glow of embers casting weird shadows up to her forehead. It didn't not suit her. But then there was nothing I could think of that didn't suit her.


Yeah, I guess you'd be right in assuming I was in love. It 'twas weird stuff, to be such. I still can't say it with ease. But there it is.

And then she turned away. The glow turning her white slip colors; a rosy twilight. Twilight suited her. Wither it be, morning or evening.

She turned to look behind her. She turned to look beside her. She turned and found my eyes and gripped them with hers. And she smiled, the mischief rising from her heart to breasts to shoulders to neck to chin to lips to tongue to nose to cheeks to eyelids to eyes to forehead and fell down her back as she released her hair to the wild.

Now with her hands she reached her shoulders, a bit of goose flesh following in her finger's wake. She plucked the thin straps of her white silk slip gently between her thumbs and fingers. She guided them with slow diligence, like an admiral positioning her ships, she laid them to rest on her upper arms. Her nipples began to appear under the silken fabric, springing from silk as tulips do when the earth livens from frost.

Her majesty, darling of my heart, leaned over, carefully avoiding flinging her long hair into the fire pit. The tops of her breasts being lit gently by the remaining glow. Her pulled her arms free of the straps and crossed her arms quickly over the slowly descending garment, halting its progress. My id booed. My ego cheered. My erection grew.

She stood up straight, and shook her hips. She slowly approached, alternately popping each hip with a step.

A few steps more, and all that covered her smallish breasts, were her slight arms. The garment now only being held up by her hips. A shimmy or two and nothing would keep it from the ground. With each frolicking step, she caused my cock a smallish seizure. I reached forward hoping she would had finally stepped inside the boundary. She was close. By straining against the ropes holding me fast, I somehow manage, with my big toe, to pull her petticoat over the ledge of her hips.

She quickly stepped back, removing her right arm from her left breast, she scolds me by shaking her finger and giving me a stern look. Her expression could not keep up with her left nipple. As her breast jiggled with the shaking of her finger, her nipple was the conductor of my orchestra, keeping time with my cock's pulsations, my balls vibrating, my heart pounding.

She laughs and her arms fall down to her side, now tugging at the waist of her white lace topped, silk panties. I watch as a spry little love hair rises over the waistband, and then I am hit with the smell of her sex.

I try to stand, my eyes widen, my cock surges, the hunger hits me. I want her, NOW! But the ropes hold me fast and prevent me from standing.

She has seen my erection grow and laughs at my struggles. She pulls down her waistband a teeny bit more. A flock of black hairs comes tumbling out and gets pressed against her pubis as she lets go the waistband, and another wave of her scent.

She laughs again as I go through the same motions again.