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Literature Text
I want to be your temptress.
I want to look, to touch,
to explore you, to take you in
with all my senses.
I want to feel your heartbeat,
to taste your lips,
to see the look in your eyes
as we make love,
to hear your beautiful moans.
I want to make you feel good,
better than you ever have.
I want you to hold me,
wrap your arms around me.
I want to feel that you
want me, too.
As I stare at you from across
the room, I know it won't happen,
but I'll never stop wanting
to show you how I feel.
I want to look, to touch,
to explore you, to take you in
with all my senses.
I want to feel your heartbeat,
to taste your lips,
to see the look in your eyes
as we make love,
to hear your beautiful moans.
I want to make you feel good,
better than you ever have.
I want you to hold me,
wrap your arms around me.
I want to feel that you
want me, too.
As I stare at you from across
the room, I know it won't happen,
but I'll never stop wanting
to show you how I feel.
Literature
Midnight Mathematics
My mindnight mathematics,
Pathological solution,
My mental acrobatics,
A silent resolution,
My broken numismatics,
Dead distribution,
My over-done dramatics,
A persisting pollution.
Literature
Paint the Dreams
Every night, on the insides of my eyelids,
I paint the Universe with the ink set of imagination
And the charcoal sticks of memory,
Then flip it upside down and the wrong way round
And let it snag into focus-
On my sleeping synapses, the branches of the Inspiration Tree .
In my ivory skull-box of random echoes,
Every melody, every voice, is re-written and rescored,
For a symphony of electricity, crisscrossing nerves ,
And running down, like liquid lightning
Into the ears of the dormant soul.
Here, this is that part of my chaotic desk
Where I re-write physics to suit myself,
Redesign monsters and angels to my own speci
Literature
Impatient
If you talk to anyone who waits at red lights or cares about fashion or owns a gun, they'll know a thing or two
about all of us; all of humanity. We are all flowers, we are all little universes, we are all the underdog future.
And maybe this is completely true, and maybe some girl pierced her ear in the 8th grade bathroom, and maybe you
have sand in your shoes from that visit to the beach last week. What does it matter, is this an absolute?
We are all pieces of God, we are all forgetting about Heaven, we are all waiting politely for death to break in
through the bathroom window. You can ask the stains on the sidewalk, the birds who refus
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Originally posted: September 15, 2009
I wrote this in a great whirl of inspiration caused by what I thought was love, and a wonderful song that I can't remember the name of...
I wrote this in a great whirl of inspiration caused by what I thought was love, and a wonderful song that I can't remember the name of...
© 2012 - 2024 dark-harou
Comments8
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I love the senuality and passion in this piece,superb expression,gave quite the visual.