Our Array of Thoughts Are Really A Chicane of Our Relentless Future

Dear Oliver James,

     For am I speaking to you again? Is it real life, is this true? Should I await for your next response, perhaps it may be some forclone clue.

     Although, our future isn't scripted, into stone or anything yet, does not mean our hopes may be skipped, into an arrogant and impulsive bet.

     But, now as time draws on, and still you speak no words, the shutters of my eyelids continue to carry on, when only future soothing can come from luscious herbs.

     Perhaps we're not meant to be, except acquaintly known. From our recent discussions falsely seen, we have let our thoughts wander into a frenzy of being overblown.

     Sincerely,


     A World Of Lingering Possibility

The Ghost Of You Keeps Me Awake

"Your words have resonated deep,

way deep into my soul, 

while your shallow mind creeps,

towards the illuminating cold.

I'm thinking in my mind again,

much too much,

thank you for a memory filled with your masked illusions.

But, they are too much to escape,

and just enough to leave a nostalgic ease."

Dear Oliver James,

     I'm yet another victim in your spider web of lies, deceit and false truths.

     How you did it is truly an art to see, and it is my luck that I have been chosen among the few to help you create such a masterpiece. If I had known beforehand, would I have  changed my crumbling responses, my weak attempts at strength?

     We could've had a summer bliss, while your fingertips slowly caressed the outline of my jaw, and continued to trail down towards my neck. An, as my pulse quickens and both of our breaths are hitched into an excitement of please. I felt your lips kiss my rushed words and broken promises.

     You never once kissed me underneath the midnight sky, but instead; smothered my days with your blinding ultraviolet rays of sunlight.

     Willing to distort my vision with your presence while you toyed with my heart strings like a violin. I added color to your piece of art, I allowed your picture to speak a thousand words, and while you wove my vulnerable beating soul into a knot of a masterpiece, I conceded with each movement, as a way to just be with you.

Just for us to be a "Me & You."

     And now as you ask me to just "listen" to the truth behind it all, I question myself if I should allow you the chance to watch me shred myself into a desperate crawl.

I have been cursed.

I have been manipulated.

I have been mesmerized by you, and oh, how you did it too well.

Torn apart and open to dry,

I am only left with pride,

And sometimes even that my dear, isn't enough to guide me through yet another day.

     So, now as I hesitantly walk this road of affliction; I can gradually feel the ocean's cool breeze sweep my hair away from my red eyes and into a mane. So, I may be a lion, a leader, a conductor towards Utter Bliss.

     Although, our paths crossed and kissed each other's presence, does not mean that we are both destined for one another; and that's okay. My shattered mind, and ache of a heart shouldn't and will not restrict me towards my happiness, well being, self contentment and road towards Utter Bliss.

     Now, if I may; I believe I will excuse myself to a small pity party in the corner while I cry myself to sleep. You know, it's not like you broke my heart; you just made me believe that there was the possibility of something. You broke the rules, and chose to make a presence, an ever growing aftertaste once the coffee beans have done their job. 

     I may not have a "Me & You," but I do have your ghost; and that's the one who keeps me awake in the wee hours. Resent solitude, there is something flooding through my veins and it's the heart ache of - once again; Me &You.

     Sincerely,

     A World Of Lingering Possibility

Crescent of A Moon

     For the duo bestowed themselves the pleasure of allowing each other to be mesmerized by the sky lingering above their heads.A blue haze stretched on for miles while clouds the size of marshmallows from squinted eyes, danced alongside stars. But, their gaze soon landed onto the crescent moon overhead, and oh my was it lovely.

     Absolutely lovely.

     Their footsteps lingered in between the hotel rooms while blush fevered their skin, as anxious hands explored new destinations.

     This was two nights ago. 

     Two nights before I awoke to used sheets. Two nights before my earnest heart felt its first ache of a splinter. Two nights before your presence no longer lingered in my bed; for all that was left were the cool comfort of a used pillow and a forgotten scarf.

     But, there was none.

     There mustn't have been the fear of oblivion, because you made it so that you were ac-quaintly aware of your physical well being. Especially during our share of heated breaths alongside beating hearts.

     Now, I don't know what to feel exactly.

     It is almost as if I feel my shadow hovering over my shoulder, while whispering in my ear muted thoughts. Muted, by your echoing silence.

     Similar to an endeavoring storm, with the aftertaste of a lingering lust, you were the creamer to my coffee.

     Too bad I prefer my coffee black.

     Now, don't you see that this addiction of mine has grown? My fond being can now be content without the discourage from your wondrous soul.

     As a blooming flower, I will now wander to numerous florists; who will then admire my petals and accept my in-differences as part of being unique.

     Doesn't that make you think of your impulsive and impatient past decisions? Hopefully, this occurs to you while processing the truth behind all of this dismay that surrounds your universe.

     And may be someday, when I have replaced my cool, used sheets; erased our soft delicacy''s and have accepted your uncertain ambivalence; may I have found a great land of peace.

     Just because at one point in time, I had needed you more than you needed me, does not mean that that time is now.

     Lovely.

     As time passes by our restless bodies, we are gifted with the treasure of thoughts. But, the real treasure is ours for the keeping.

For,

          I am home,

          I am loved,

          I am cherished,

          I am Home, my dear.

Another Tally Mark On The Wall

"I'm doing this thing, where I am collecting every piece of writing I have, so I may record everything into the book that I will publish someday & if I experience hurt, deceit and pain along the way, all the merrier. That just means that I will have more tear stains to decorate my isolated words."

     While music pulsed through my ears, the soaring helicopters above still made their presence into my eardrums.

     I live in an area where I am surrounded by people who make bad decisions. Although, that does not exempt me from my future choices that await in my very near and dear few seconds of life; I am still left in the confinements of my home. Well, until each citizen is provided peace, safety and order in a place of unjust fallacies. For as of right now, our town is deluded with our prejudice beliefs. Why must I  be surrounded with others who voluntary choose to have their thoughts clouded by society's standards of social acceptance, rather than a life of fulfillment?

     So, now as I contemplate my future of these upcoming events, I am relying on Pandora, the music station; to supply my void. Oh, what a void that is.

     Moving along onto a topic more lighthearted; a portion of my day today was shared with a dear friend of mine named Kassidy, along with the two of us cherishing the world of literature, YouTube pop culture, indie music and years of recollection; we have both grown fond of one another's presence.  And, when the time for Book Club came about earlier today, there was an exchange of smiles, laughter and embarrassing tales of each other's pasts'. To say that I am grateful for today is an understatement, I was able to reveal a secluded part of myself that has remained hidden for a while.

Literature.

My own works, a line created by the one and only; Me.

     In other words, I delved into my past pieces of writings and was extremely bashful, extremely. To say that I went through a stage or two throughout my past high school years is an euphemism. I coursed through many transitions that have all guided me into the person I am today, and I wouldn't take anything back; for regret does not leave an aftertaste after a deep slumber, or an early sunrise yoga session.

I am me, and I am proud of who I am.

     I am under the interpretation that any writer who dives into their archive that has been collecting dust while in a slothful state, may laugh when allowing their eyes to skim across their pieces of paper they once cherished. And, may I say, that I very much indeed, experienced such an event several hours ago.

     Nevertheless, I was able to cringe about my weak attempts at dialogue, cringe at my plot lines and inability to describe just enough; apparently, two years ago I went through a phase where I was overly descriptive. I was also able to applaud my effort in perseverance, ability to strive for the best, and take full advantage of all of my juice before being hit with an applause of writer's block.

     Anyhow, due to popular demand, if asked politely, I just might release a portion of my own works. And who knows? Possibly the words written above are just yet another piece of paper awaiting their slothful state.

     As always, I wish you the best on your future endeavors, along with a good laugh.

"In the wee small hours of the night. As I am reminded of your lingering presence, do I choose to go and grab myself a chocolate bar. I think we both know chocolate can solve any problem."