The Firey Speck

The Firey Speck

In a moment where the wind blew
For a brief grievance, my coat tail knew
The fiery dust which embraced my eye
Came to proclaim a message of a thunderous lullaby
To be awake is to steady see
The anguish and anger always sent for me
A song for the hornet and wide winged bat
Inside of my shattered heart, my reaction is a frivolous stat

When the speck hit my eye
I should have washed it out with lye
The burn would have paralyzed my will to see
The dream that this would set us free
But now I’m waking up to be hurt
All of my feelings are stuck in the dirt

For some wish to learn at the university – receiving methods and assignments in strenuous diversity
Others are not for the will to learn from the school book
They rather get it word of mouth from the bell and informed hook
I suppose it matters not where education arrives
For as long as the trail of questions convince our begging lives

When the speck hit my eye
I should have washed it out with lye
The burn would have paralyzed my will to see
The dream that this would set us free
But now I’m waking up to be hurt
All of my feelings are stuck in the dirt

{bridge}
A refrain of speckled puzzles convinced me to see
A dark illumination that’s paralyzed me
If not for the will to sing this song
I’d refuse to believe the dance to belong
The color of a miss-step is the shade of a fading white
No one has to wrestle in the error of the unseen night

A frivolous stat! A frivolous stat! A hornet without honey and wide winged bat! A wide-winged bat!
For seeing without eyes are like bees without honey
A purpose to be drawn without the necessity of money
The speck in my eye became an enlarged reflector
This inspired a pathway to become the most desired nectar

When the speck hit my eye
I should have washed it out with lye
The burn would have paralyzed my will to see
The dream that this would set us free
But now I’m waking up to be hurt
All of my feelings are stuck in the dirt

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Spiral Confessions

Spiral Confessions

The sky is my mansion where a pallet is transfixed. The more I look up, the more I see endless spirals turning into real life forms. I wonder what ideas can exist, from what’s above me and below me. All is possible with imagination and with the inspiration, you can create the very thing inside your mind. It’s very confrontational to see the very result of what is physical in your mind. It’s not about whether it’s possible – but about the process to enable it to come to life. The process depends on where you are in your life – a lot of things don’t make as much sense as they use to because I’ve evolved. The more I grow, the more I know. Knowledge is mutated and with this means a sharper awareness of my sensitivity to confession.

It’s very confrontational to see the very result of what is physical in your mind. It’s not about whether it’s possible – but about the process to enable it to come to life. The process depends on where you are in your life – a lot of things don’t make as much sense as they use to because I’ve evolved. The more I grow, the more I know. Knowledge is mutated and with this means a sharper awareness of my sensitivity to confession.
Confessions of mystery’s tail are hypnotized at length. While my eyes are turning into further oblivion, I’m counting the days ahead of me. What’s found in the eye of the spiral is confessed at the misunderstanding of destination. I’m caught in the influx of where I want to go, and what is meant to be redeemed in my previous promise.

The more I look, the more I change on what I’m really seeing. It’s like looking into the eyes of a spiral – it confuses your eyes and misleads what is seen next. The spirals are like optical illusions, I see more than one thing confessed. My admission is that I understand multiple directions. This only encourages my navigation because I have the freedom to entertain the depth and height.

Come again o’ gust of wind and blow me into distant lands. Return to me – far away places, where I’m found only by the deepest seas and highest mountains. I’m incapable of seeing all avenues left for me because I’ve already been covered in telescopes and magnifiers. I’m followed by infinite spirals and they seek to rearrange me. Fruits from the tree have fallen and in close proximity – one can distinguish the rotten pieces.

What’s dead was once alive only now spoiled by the passing evolution. Changes are recurring and patterns are emptying their significance. Time becomes a deeper illusion and I’m hypnotized by the spiral. I am spiraling out of awakening – the signal is gaining a hypnosis of sensibility. A sour taste lays upon my tongue when I realize the irreversible. Days like this are made up by silent discussions in my heart.

I’ve always been fascinated by spirals and their infinity. When I was young, I’d always draw a spiral with an eye in the middle. This would signify the random state of a hypnotic rhythm. Spirals symbolize what’s constantly confessing tricks of the eye.  Spiral Confessions are the turns in my eyes that build on the invisible until manifested. Random ingredients are captured by mindless mixing to convey taste. Methods come and go but with the eye of the spiral, confessions are random and full with direction.

Pardon me while I take a ride to a land of wind and dust. This ride makes me nauseous because it swirls through infinite directions. I’m here and there and everywhere at the same time. Spiral Confessions are statements of mystery which are filled with twists and 360 directions.

Ancient Urgency

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Considering how rare and considerate you are of the expression kept inside you – I am eternally honored!

I feel as if eye am discovering a painting that is encoded on the pyramids of Egypt!

Your curves are like numbers and it’s a special trance to describe!

When I first opened the email, the eye just glazed into the pictures.

I can’t help it! Even if I could, I wouldn’t be able to.

I apologize if my words might appear a bit scandalous but if they help provoke a sense of urgency then….Damn it.

 I use words that can possibly teach you how sincere I am – some words are better understood with a sense of character in them.

So when I tell you that looking at your body makes me bite my lip, it’s true.

My imagination rips your clothes off slowly while my hands sculpture your essence.

If eye could teach you like an ancient understanding of how deeply bad I want you- Solomon and Shakespeare would be remiss.

We listen to songs that attempt to capture feelings and arouse the power at night.

We become strategic and lay out our melody and notes!

But IF I was there, I would just enter into you like the wind enters the desert.

We could make our own noise later!

Everything that makes sense in our mind will become logic when I touch you.

Words would fail us desperately, but that’s OK because I would be one with you.

Our spirits in flight, traveling to all of those illustrative pictures and poems of true sexuality.

INSPIRED By The E Of Thee.