A Loss for Words

Someone asked me “What is it you love about them?” and I was unable to find the words to say. Not because there was nothing I loved about them, or that I loved everything about them, but because I couldn’t form my thoughts into the words I wanted. Sure, I could have used words such as: Beautiful. Funny. Smart. But they deserved more than that. What I loved about them, and what made them special to me was indescribable. It didn’t translate at all. It was something that had to be felt, something that had to be experienced. For that feeling and thoughts were something new to me, and that cannot be explained or described, it just was. It is. It always shall be.   

7 Deadly Sins: Lust

I am the desire in your heart,
the seductive voice in your head.
I am the tickling touch on your skin,
the lip biting pleasures surging like electric.
I am dominant and submissive,
master and slave to your urges.
I am false love and false passion,
trapping the depraved into my sin.
I am the screams and the moans,
the claw marks on your back.
I am the melting snow on your nipple.
I am the dancing fire in your eyes.
I am the sweat dripping down your face.
I am pure.
I am filthy.
I am sex.
I. Am. Lust.

 

byjul320 (jul320.deviantart.com)l

A Minute After Midnight

Set in motion from the very beginning.
The dark day comes a minute after midnight.

When it cycles back.
No one knows.

Where it stems.
Is unique to everyone.

The dark days are the weeping days,
the furious days, and the silent days.
The world grows weary.
We are exhausted.

And as the sun shines back anew.
It resets.

The Array of Dark Echoes: Part 3 - Whole

It stares into my very being.
It sees me for who I am.
The real me.
And I am intrigued.
This “thing” that frightens me so.
Harmless to those who do not know.
A beast to those who have had experience in its dealings.
And feeling frightened and intrigue and joy and overwhelm.
I stare back at it.
The abyss of its form is honest.
Much more than me.
To try and grasp it is like trying to catch mist.
And in the patient night.
I take it.

The Array of Dark Echoes: Part 2 - The Line

He approaches the cracked line.
It seems ghostly.
Created by fear and depression.
Held by morality and justice.
But all the same, just a broken line.
The longer he lingers, the more it seems to whisper to him.
One single voice talking in a haunting echo.
It then multiples to a dozen voices. A hundred. A thousand.
The whispers become shouts of pure malice, rage, and persuasion.
Then a sudden nothingness.
No sound.
But it’s too late, nothing reaches the man now.
He is lost to them. To “it”.
One staggered foot at a time, he steps over the sinuous line.
And he is gone.

“The man who follows the crowd will usually get no further than the crowd. The man who walks alone is likely to find himself in places no one has.”
— Alan Ashley-Pitt
“A man chooses, a slave obeys.”
— Andrew Ryan (Bioshock)

Maybe we are all broken. Everyone is fragments of a whole. And with family and friends, we start to piece together. But only with someone to love and love you back, will you be complete.

I walk around with a fake smile, a semi-genuine laugh, and try as hard as possible to not look hurt and depressed. And deep down inside, I want someone to know, I want someone to see past the fake and find me, and truly care.