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Sometimes the only option is to surrender to my demon lover . . .

 

Strange safety in that dark embrace

So intimate his arms surrounding

His wicked touch does run though me

 

Sometimes the only reason is to lay with the coming night . . .

 

Soft, sweet his whispers all I hear now

To yield the only answer left me

My fragile soul does grant surrender

 

Sometimes the only justification is my lunatic desire . . .

 

 

Yes, Virginia . . . faeries are real.

And some of them do wear boots, Ozzy!

 

Picked up a nifty, little fridge magnet.  I hate it when people cover their fridge with magnets, but this is a small one and all alone.  Its about an inch, round, white button and not so much to look at, still what it says . . .

 

“Never apologize for your art!”

 

Got it in an artsy, little town in Oregon, that and a ring for my lover.  He’d been looking for so long . . . banded, Celtic knots wide enough for a man.  Now he wears it everyday.

 

Nope, he doesn’t have a job yet.

Nope, I don’t think he’s looking.

Nope, I have no idea what to do about it.

All I know is that I love him and want him . . . period.

 

I’m beginning to think we don’t pick the people we love deeply.

Fate, karma, repeating lives, destiny, dumb luck, what-the-fuck.

 

There was another man

A while back

Found a picture on the Internet

No, not mine . . .

Okay, that too

Picture was a simple

Lined, journal-type page

Hand-lettering declaring

 

“Art is what you can get away with.”

 

So here’s my art.

 

Random thoughts

As they run through

My mind

 

Random fears

As they chill

My heart

 

Random lust

As it warms

My loins

 

Random loves

As they destroy

My life

 

Random ideas

As they save

My soul

 

No apology . . . define “get away with.”  LOL.

 

Met a talented and nice lady

Southern Oregon is a pretty cool place

Neat towns and people

My bestest friend lives there

I think I’d like to live in SoOre

 

I’d go tomorrow

Got my ball and chain though

Great American Dream

Homeownership

Nothing more than another trap

A different kind of nightmare

 

Can’t go, must wait.

I hate waiting

I want to go now!

 

Blue with white capsules

In the morning

Little white and yellow pills

In the evening

 

Trying not to feel

Sedated

 

Trying not to feel

Hurt

 

Trying not to feel

Broken

 

Trying not to feel

Lost

 

Trying not to feel

Tragic

 

Is it prose? Is it poetry? Is it fiction?

 

“There’s only one person in the room.”

 

Do you hear me?

 

He walked out my door

I could tell

Like he did before

I had failed

To return no more

I did wail

He walked out my door

 

So what have I left?

What have I left?

Bereft, depleted

Again my life pattern

It is repeated

 

The hope, a new start

I stumbled

He broke a frail heart

I crumbled

Life comes apart

I’m humbled

He walked out my door

 

So what have I left?

What have I left?

A soul more fated

Again life leaves me

A bit more jaded

 

He walked out my door

He walked out my door

So what have I left?

He walked out my door

Dear sweet sister
What joy we have
Soul’s family united

In tandem
In unison
In harmony
We’ll sing

Through happiness
Through heartbreak
Through life’s trials
We’ll laugh

At this moment
At day’s end
At any time to come
Together

Dear sweet sister
Connection made
Spirit’s haven found

Never again to be alone
No longer misunderstood

 

Diving into the depth of his eyes

Basking in the warmth of his essence

Ever safe and loved in his embrace

 

Hold the harsh, uncaring world at bay

Shun the cruel, superficial judgments

Love, allure, passion and lust artifice

 

Should we two together be enough

My silent prayer . . . let us be enough

 

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