Kiss and tell.

watch me watch those lips open and close and open and close, and i hear naught. yet they glisten a dark amaranth in the dimmed lights from the candles as they dance to the song that can be overheard entwined with the air that lingers into the midnight. watch me watch those lips as i lick them with my traveling eyes where imagination is almost redundant.

watch me.

watch me watch the pools of ebony that make up your eyes, illuminated in a glow every time your curvy eyelashes reveal them to me. their vision set on me urging me, leading me, enticing me, promising me more than the light in them that teases me. i have only seen red roses my love, but tease me not with two black and white ones.

tease me.

watch me watch the luscious hair that seem to caress you, teaching me the right way as you tilt your head slightly to sip golden champagne. flowing down one side of your face hiding cheeks that turn rosy red when they catch my eyes. silken hair just touching your shoulders fall back and reveal to me where my hands should be, stroking your chocolate skin to the back of your neck.

move me.

and then she steps out of her table.
graceful steps one and two.
she's been asked to dance.
she's been asked to move.

she would rather be in my hands. overlooking her shoulder at each opportunity, to see if my eyes have not betrayed her. the red dress flicking at her beautiful shoes. beautiful red prada shoes. i know. i chose them so carefully, to fit this persona. this entity of grace and elegance. this woman. her. she. mine.

won't you come to me?

i stand and move. one steps two. i stop at a pillar and lean against, to watch. watch me watch you, woman. watch me watch you, envying the sides of the silken thread that make up your dress, privileged to dance along with those hips. she looks at me and is careful to hide her eyes from pleading. watch me watch you get frustrated.

gently now.

frustrated by more patience, she loosens her grip on the shoulder and one step two. grabs my black vest by its side and pulls me toward her chest. she glares at me, and rips off her long red gloves and flicks her wrists for me to see it float down to my feet. to feel. to feel my neck. to feel my heat for her. she smells my neck and sighs as fingers entwine and one step two, she leads.

kiss me.

breathless. ever so lightly she licks my neck and nibbles it. look at me. look at my eyes. look at my pulsating chest. kiss me. kiss me you fool, she glimpses. i smile. i know what you want. you know what you want. i want you. and i want you. you fool she says. you don't need me.

you have me.

step. step step. step.

this you i always think of, can be distracting sometimes.
most times.
all times.


step. step step. step.

yes my love, in the red chiffon dress.
my hands sway with the movement of your hips.
nibble my cheek, and squeeze your grip on my vest.
the lure emanating from your luscious lips.

perfore el corazón.

caressing the tip of your nose on mine
lick my neck with your prurient eyes
your fingers arousing the shivers in my spine
your heartbeat tells no lies

béseme.

turn and turn and make me yearn
fall and fall and make me call
smile and smile and make me sigh
kiss and kiss and make me miss

you, when you leave me, hand trailing behind into mine.

Hate is hate. Don't hate it.

i want to quit.

but sooner or later, i will fall into my own abyss. the one i created. and yet i will return to it for its comforts are far beyond material desires.

i am different now. i don't like me now. i like me before. the one who stayed motionless in the realms of my mind and surveyed people with no real intention.

i can hate. i can be evil. i can be more.
why do i need conscience and kindness. why do i so deliberately want to think about you, when in the end, no matter what the situation, i am the one at fault.

and yet at the brink of change i falter. i shiver to take the next step.

should i just trample on emotions as and when i feel so, because they are in my way? should i look out for myself first, then others?

this hesitance, has now given birth to a mirrored version of myself.

a being who hates everyone, and whose arrogance is starting to overflow limits to which control is no more a question. whose proposed intelligence is the catalyst for such behaviour. whose strength is utilised for forcing supression to the heart's messages.

and then, there are leftovers.

tattered remains of myself before the reasons for my diseased ridden pride and soul to split itself in annoyance and reflex to save my mind from turning onto itself.

if you would have me now, or before, you can never have me whole anymore.

i cannot be only yours. because now i am mine too.

and i am liking it.

Glass walls.

The mind. The birth of understanding and the dread that follows after.

everyday i step into this room broken down. yet faking worldy pleasures in my head to everyone else, letting my sheer arrogance rule me. and in my own eyes i greet you from the other side of the shadows. with strangers meddling with my mind, don't get too close. my material skin, disintegrates like the surface of the still river when a leaf floats onto it. don't hurt me please.

for i only exist because you say i do.

yes. yes yes yes. i am not dead and have yet to die, but i am living in my self as an entity within an entity hoping my outer side does not fall into thorned bushes that might poison the already decaying flesh that needs no more damage. my mind the candle within four glassed walls. and i, looking from the outside, wondering what miracle is sustaining the dancing flame for so long now.

it was gradual.

the way it slipped from my grasp and my conscience. they way it dissipated whenever i looked at my forlorn reflection in the broken shards. the way it mellowed to a whisper whenever i took calculated steps towards a realm in time and space to disappear. secretly i longed for the day which is unbecoming of my smile. constantly thinking of nothing. and how i wished i was nothing. the entity that is me, a waste of space existant in a place that will eventually crumble. so i finally know, and its at its end.

i have lost the desire, to desire.

it is when the city sleeps, that my peace is disturbed and my mind is at ease. viewing the world differently, but assuredly, everytime my pupils seem to lose their capabilities. at the cost of my ignorance, my mind struggles urging me.

pleading to me to step out
crawl out
shivering at the implosion
of the madness

move up dear one.
move my love.
don't just leave yet.

you have yet to seek or see me. you have yet to feel my presence and with that, you have yet to transcend this assumed impenetrable barrier you have created in place of, whicle searching for me. why do you force submission so easily. don't give up on me my love. i have not given up on you. why do you choose to exist seperately from me when the answers you seek so vehemently, i have only for you. accept me like i will you, and see with your eyes my experience. i guarantee you answers, and more chaos. since by yourself you have long left the state of ignorance the moment you were affected by the true nature of being enlightenend, you have already chosen this path. i only promise you a deeper understanding, not seclusion or serenity.

for that, you have you.

Ad infinitum.

why does the street lamp glow a dimmer shade, each time i stroll past an old memory lurking in the depths of the abyss that commands my every move. the swirling mystery that inhabits my innermost desires that punctuate endless speeches and infinitely vacates space for ubiquitous pictures that mockingly flash before my glistening eyes. the nonchalant gazing through the cold steel grills of the window seem to numb me more than it did, now that i am far more lost in my precociousness; far too blinded by sweet smelling roses every thursday night. the dried petals a reminder of what used to be; luscious silken skin underneath my sense of touch forcing smile after smile; simultaneously, taking my thoughts far from beguile.

why do dry rose petals retain their colour?

it does not really matter. for i am happy they have colour at all, clinging onto dried hopes and decaying memoirs of magnanimity and mellow moaning while my fingers do more than just feed my incessant needs for attention. intent on following subtle shivers to the point of sentient feelings that set of seemingly limitless amounts of sensual salaciousness and amorous aphrodisia, willingly partaken in of course. giving basic thought very little room to administer rational behaviour while i indulge in fondling with concupiscence knowingly as it brings about your hunger for me.

yes i am self-indulgent.

but what does that say about you my lustful lover? vision less only when your needs are being stroked to ecstasy, ruing the sight of me once your voracious libido is satisfied and sleeping. pretentiously holding my hand throughout my ordeal as though purposefully feeding my desire to feed you. the lifelessness of me is only my reflection in your eyes when the look of disgust spreads from your lips to the back of your head as i watch you caress the wind as you walk away from my line of sight.

but those petals do not lose their colour still.