You smell like pain
And pleasure
You taste like evil
But you taste so good
You set my soul on fire
The burn feels so good
Mortal wounds are meaningless
Meaningless to us
Make me scars, make me memories
Open my body, expose my soul
Pain with pleasure
Or is it pleasure with pain
Friday, December 18, 2009
Weather or Not Romantic
The little starlets in your eyes
Tell me that everything will be alright
The rain that hugs your cheek
Makes me jealous, I'm so weak
Your body shudders perhaps from cold
But I hope it's from a blissful hold
I kiss your forehead and taste the rain
And whisper softly I love you before your name
Tell me that everything will be alright
The rain that hugs your cheek
Makes me jealous, I'm so weak
Your body shudders perhaps from cold
But I hope it's from a blissful hold
I kiss your forehead and taste the rain
And whisper softly I love you before your name
Want Not More
When nighttime darkness fills our room
And light flitters in from a full moon
Anticapting your flesh against myself soon
Excited tingling scatters over our skin
We embrace, kiss, forget all gods and give in to sin
Your eyes fiercely bright in the low light's din
And primal desires emerge from within
Through our throes and writhes we yearn for more
An exhausting time late,r we're sprawled across the floor
Breathing hard, feeling our bodies soar
Blissfully intertwined, warmth filling our core
And light flitters in from a full moon
Anticapting your flesh against myself soon
Excited tingling scatters over our skin
We embrace, kiss, forget all gods and give in to sin
Your eyes fiercely bright in the low light's din
And primal desires emerge from within
Through our throes and writhes we yearn for more
An exhausting time late,r we're sprawled across the floor
Breathing hard, feeling our bodies soar
Blissfully intertwined, warmth filling our core
Promises To Mio Amore
When you're drowning, I'll be the air you breathe,
When you're crying, I'll be there in your time of need,
When you're heartbroken, I'll remind you to believe,
When you love, I hope that it's me,
When you smile, I hope that I see,
When in autumn, I'll brush your hair of leaves,
When in winter, I'll be the warmth you need,
When in spring, when in summer I'll make sure there's no reason to grieve
When you're crying, I'll be there in your time of need,
When you're heartbroken, I'll remind you to believe,
When you love, I hope that it's me,
When you smile, I hope that I see,
When in autumn, I'll brush your hair of leaves,
When in winter, I'll be the warmth you need,
When in spring, when in summer I'll make sure there's no reason to grieve
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Dad
My father's keeper. Yup. Yuppers. That's me. *smiles*
There's... family skeletons, hate, unknown secrets, half truths, lies, one-sided stories, etc surrounding my Dad. Growing up. Coming to acquire a form of consciousness that escaped me when I was younger, I learned some of these things. These little scars, and hiccups that somewhat jaded my image of my father. But.
He still was a bronze statue to me. In all metaphors of that phrase.
He was never gold, but neither last place. I would choose to have my Dad over any others. And believe you me. I've had a few fathers over short short lifetime. Some were great, caring, very interactive and attentive. But. I would still rather my Dad. My father. Biased much? Biased very. Not just because he's my blood. But I can feel I'm a lot like him. He's not gold. But he's my Dad. Always.
I think if I count the amount of times I've seen my Dad smile. It would be. Twenty. No, lies. Less than twenty makes more sense. Makes more fact. Makes me believe my memory more. He was stoic. I don't know why. I never did. I don't think I will. It's not like I could just sit there and ask him and get a direct response. We've only emotionally connected once in my life. And that was the one dual bond forged from lies and accusation. Fucked huh? Hah. Pretty fucked. He did take us out at times, and it was those times... every time... I remember and... look back on... fondly. ShadowlessTomorrow having a sentimental moment in public? I think I say a twitter feed about hell freezing over. He was a statue but that rigidity grew to look to as comfort. In my chaotic life, my Dad was always there. Just there. Being. Existing in my life. Not contributing but not taking away. In the chaos, he was there. I may be wrong, but I feel that he was around for me.
But, my father is not without his downfalls. And oh so many I know of now in my adult years. Wow. Like, wow. Seriously. How much is true and how much is lies is completely beyond me. How can I sort out what is truth and not? *shrug* I've always said that I honor honesty and truth above all. That in this crazy world. The truth will always be the truth when all fails and falls and crumbles beneath our feet in a pile of rubble spilling over the knee high bile that we have spewed forth, our excrement laying thick and sick. The truth will always be the truth. But... ... ... ... Part of me does not want to make faded the photo of my father in my head. He's not perfect. I know that now. As well. As before. I've known this. I know this. But... He's my Dad. Does that make sense? Is that rational? No. It's not. It's not. It's not. I don't care. Do not take away what little I have.
What I have: Is a few scattered memories of my Dad suggesting I buy a poseable action figure instead of the electronic voice box action figures, to stimulate my mind and creativity. A few fragments of festivals and fairs where he encouraged me to have fun even in our times of poverty. A moment in my life where I understood that he understood me, letting boys be boys. Stirring, and kneading a bowl of tamarind candy because I asked for money for a candy bar. Punishment dealt to me in a way that made me understand my err and make me better for it. A shoulder of support when Mother's insane rants and punishment was undeserved, the only shoulder of support. Shelter when wooden spoons broke on me without cause. Jazz Jack Rabbit. AOL. My first email address, first computer, and first robot. Pride. For my blood, heritage, my uniqueness, my mind.
And my father's greatest legacy to me. My name. My name. No one else's name. No one. It's mine wholly and uniquely. I don't know if that's what he meant to do. To instill me with instantaneous individualism by use of eleven letters. But it did, does, and will always. I'm proud of my fucking name and I fucking hate nicknames. Do not destroy my legacy. *smiles* Yeah. Oh yeah. I should write about my name in another post. (There's sure a lot of topics I put on the back burner and I forget but I doubt I'll forget this one)
In closing, he's not the greatest Dad. I don't see myself buying him a novelty mug. Snazzy tie. Or anything for that matter. He wasn't always there for me, but at the same time he was always there for me. Make sense? No? pfft just follow along and worry not my contradicting sentences. There are skeletons in our family that will come out eventually, that will. Without doubt. Fade my mental photo of him. But I care not. Because my Dad. *shrugs* Will always be my Dad.
My blood is your blood,
ShadowlessTomorrow
Side note: Mother being called Mother is a conscious decision by me. Just as my father I call Dad. I shouldn't have to explain what I mean. Just think.
There's... family skeletons, hate, unknown secrets, half truths, lies, one-sided stories, etc surrounding my Dad. Growing up. Coming to acquire a form of consciousness that escaped me when I was younger, I learned some of these things. These little scars, and hiccups that somewhat jaded my image of my father. But.
He still was a bronze statue to me. In all metaphors of that phrase.
He was never gold, but neither last place. I would choose to have my Dad over any others. And believe you me. I've had a few fathers over short short lifetime. Some were great, caring, very interactive and attentive. But. I would still rather my Dad. My father. Biased much? Biased very. Not just because he's my blood. But I can feel I'm a lot like him. He's not gold. But he's my Dad. Always.
I think if I count the amount of times I've seen my Dad smile. It would be. Twenty. No, lies. Less than twenty makes more sense. Makes more fact. Makes me believe my memory more. He was stoic. I don't know why. I never did. I don't think I will. It's not like I could just sit there and ask him and get a direct response. We've only emotionally connected once in my life. And that was the one dual bond forged from lies and accusation. Fucked huh? Hah. Pretty fucked. He did take us out at times, and it was those times... every time... I remember and... look back on... fondly. ShadowlessTomorrow having a sentimental moment in public? I think I say a twitter feed about hell freezing over. He was a statue but that rigidity grew to look to as comfort. In my chaotic life, my Dad was always there. Just there. Being. Existing in my life. Not contributing but not taking away. In the chaos, he was there. I may be wrong, but I feel that he was around for me.
But, my father is not without his downfalls. And oh so many I know of now in my adult years. Wow. Like, wow. Seriously. How much is true and how much is lies is completely beyond me. How can I sort out what is truth and not? *shrug* I've always said that I honor honesty and truth above all. That in this crazy world. The truth will always be the truth when all fails and falls and crumbles beneath our feet in a pile of rubble spilling over the knee high bile that we have spewed forth, our excrement laying thick and sick. The truth will always be the truth. But... ... ... ... Part of me does not want to make faded the photo of my father in my head. He's not perfect. I know that now. As well. As before. I've known this. I know this. But... He's my Dad. Does that make sense? Is that rational? No. It's not. It's not. It's not. I don't care. Do not take away what little I have.
What I have: Is a few scattered memories of my Dad suggesting I buy a poseable action figure instead of the electronic voice box action figures, to stimulate my mind and creativity. A few fragments of festivals and fairs where he encouraged me to have fun even in our times of poverty. A moment in my life where I understood that he understood me, letting boys be boys. Stirring, and kneading a bowl of tamarind candy because I asked for money for a candy bar. Punishment dealt to me in a way that made me understand my err and make me better for it. A shoulder of support when Mother's insane rants and punishment was undeserved, the only shoulder of support. Shelter when wooden spoons broke on me without cause. Jazz Jack Rabbit. AOL. My first email address, first computer, and first robot. Pride. For my blood, heritage, my uniqueness, my mind.
And my father's greatest legacy to me. My name. My name. No one else's name. No one. It's mine wholly and uniquely. I don't know if that's what he meant to do. To instill me with instantaneous individualism by use of eleven letters. But it did, does, and will always. I'm proud of my fucking name and I fucking hate nicknames. Do not destroy my legacy. *smiles* Yeah. Oh yeah. I should write about my name in another post. (There's sure a lot of topics I put on the back burner and I forget but I doubt I'll forget this one)
In closing, he's not the greatest Dad. I don't see myself buying him a novelty mug. Snazzy tie. Or anything for that matter. He wasn't always there for me, but at the same time he was always there for me. Make sense? No? pfft just follow along and worry not my contradicting sentences. There are skeletons in our family that will come out eventually, that will. Without doubt. Fade my mental photo of him. But I care not. Because my Dad. *shrugs* Will always be my Dad.
My blood is your blood,
ShadowlessTomorrow
Side note: Mother being called Mother is a conscious decision by me. Just as my father I call Dad. I shouldn't have to explain what I mean. Just think.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)