Ramble to yourself, ramble about lovers

Tonight, there’s no star outside. Just me in my dark room sitting on the floor. I could meditate and do a pose or two. I could stare at the wall in the dark. Or have some pomegranate and cry like I had done nine years ago. That was awesome… actually, it was sort of fun. To cry while eating pomegranate. I’m telling you, make that one of your goals in life.

I guess it’s not bad to do weird things once in a while. Go ahead; don’t sleep. Sit on the floor in the dark and just ramble. Just do it at 3 am. Just you and the stars that are far away and that can’t be seen on cloudy nights. Ramble to yourself; ramble about lovers. His eyes, his lack of words, his honest answer. That’s the most attractive thing I guess; someone who’s so honest with their feelings. If they like your hair, they’ll say they like your hair. If they care about your love life, they’ll ask about your love life. They’re attentive to what you wear and they’ll comment on it. It’s that type of honesty that’s lovely. Not sweet words dubbed in euphemisms. Get to the heart of the issue, dig to the core. By saying nothing else, and just that one thing that you wanna hear that triggers something from something like, ‘you look great tonight.’ Just words that mean everything; like a vision of cascading fresh spring waterfall drenched on an unearthly high spirited maiden from dreams.
That’s what point blank words mixed with a lack of words do. Only real things. Body, flesh, love, hands, saliva, spank, hold, taste. Go out and walk in nature during the day. Talk about nothing. Absolutely nothing. And when you do talk, say just the things that are honest
the only things that matter
you turn me on.



Saddest thing ever

When you’re feeling alone and riddled with fear in the dark of the night
And playing catch in an empty living room with a helpless playful dog for the sake of his negligible happiness


Rock the boat

Daylight, turns into sweet night light
Your face, shines in a new type of light
Your smile, is the only thing I think of
In the new dawn

It stayed; it lingered on the dance floor
You said, you want to see me dance some more
In a dream
I left, not caring what you mean
Next day, not anything was different
But come time, I see you there from faraway

That smile, did something to me
Wanting, more and more
And more some more
‘Till it’s full blown
Like it’s something substantial
No deny
That we’re in it for the real deal
It’s not too late
It’s a new start to a new day
You with me
Like we’re rocking on a love boat
To nowhere
Got you in my arms, my new friend
Dusk mates; heart shines genuine like diamonds
With you here
Got everything I wanted
Just say it
Say how much you really love it
I wanna hear you
Sigh it again


Deep night with a douchebag

Southeast Asian beaches remind me of him. I was young, the night was wild, the winds were gently blowing over my face,
and there was mystery light blinking from a ship afar. The stars were crystal clear and bright, the breeze was warm. My skin was radiating even in the dark. So warm it all felt; deep in my heart. I was staring at the shoreline while people slept all around. There was silence now
After a wild night at the bar. I didn’t drink, but I loved being around drunk people because I got to be myself… and you can have some really awesome conversations with drunk people. We cry about world poverty, tell each other we love each other and all.

The drunkards and I were walking out of the bar towards the beach. I saw what appeared to be a drunk old man holding onto himself on the stairway railing as he also walked out of the bar. Moments later, that douche was winning an argument against an international audience full of drunk Americans and French at the beach. I didn’t know what his problem was, but he was making some serious hilarious allegations as a Brit in a foreign country. Turns out you become hilarious when you get old, as he did at… thirty-two?

I was quiet the entire time because I didn’t have much to say to that. Or I couldn’t. It was both. Ultimately, it ended up being just the two of us who were consciously awake and talking about vulnerable stuff. He highlighted his age right before he found out that I was nineteen and said that I was too young. He verbally rejected me. I was going to be twenty soon, so what was his problem? Besides, I was a thousand times more mature than he would have guessed. Jerk! Is what I thought.

If it was my choice, I would have climbed onto him, straddled him on the chair, unbuttoned his shirt and had a major smoldering hot make-out session. But that was just a thought. We continued sitting on the beach chairs next to each other as the rest of the drunk people slept around us. It was really attractive to see a loud mouth grow quiet. They become human just then, and you have total access to their hearts. He was really calm when we talked about supposed deep things. It’s like he grew into becoming a different person; not someone so faraway, wild, and loud, but someone who got to know a small part of me, was close to me in that time and space for whatever reason the celestial skies had in store for us. I saw a shooting star for the first time in my life, and it was the only time I never was able to fall asleep on that freezing beach next to a man who I was really able to converse with, no matter how amateur and jacked up it was, for the first time in my life.

My friends and I didn’t have a hotel room that night, but they were able to fall asleep while I stayed awake freezing to death. He said it was time for him to stop; the red blinking light far away across the ocean told him that. My heart sank. I guessed everything had to end at some point.
He said if I needed a place to stay, I could come with him.
But my wise, conscious, decent ass said something like, “Oh no bla bla bla.” Hindsight, it was bullshit. I would have totally gone with him. He got up, kissed his hand, placed it on my forehead, then walked away. I watched him walk away into the dark horizon; his body getting smaller and smaller with the growing distance. I froze still and didn’t say a word, but wished that he would turn around and come back. He’d say something to me… that it wasn’t all a hoax, that it wouldn’t ever end. He didn’t turn around.

Next day no sight of him. On the ferry ride out of the island, no presence of him. Nada, nothing. Nothing mattered for a while, it was like an end to all joy. All I knew was that his name was Terry, thirty-two, British, never married, and that he was going on a trip around the world. I couldn’t ever find him again based on those five facts.

He asked me he rejected me he rejected me he asked me. He walked away, he had asked me. He never came back, he rejected me.

What if I had said yes to his invitation? A feeling of warmth encapsulates my mind.

Scenario one: I would have slept next to him for the sake of having comfort only; for the practical purposes of getting a shelter. I would have apologized if I had accidentally touched him. Maybe we’d exchange contact information the next day, and possibly get in contact in the future.

Scenario two: I would have slept next to him, and within five minutes, we wouldn’t have been able to contain it. We’d have a deep, hot, sexy make-out session that would prolong for hourrssss. In the morning we’d be all wrapped up in each other. We’d have to unwillingly be ripped apart from each other. We’d exchange contact information and promise to get a hold of one another soon, and it would develop into something substantial and magical.

Scenario three: We’d sleep next to each other pragmatically for the sake of me having a shelter, and within five minutes, get it on. The next morning he’d regret it, I’d be sad, we’d end it and lose contact.

Scenario four (what most likely would have happened, positively speaking): We’d sleep next to each other pragmatically for the sake of me having a shelter, then slowly we’d hold hands. We’d look at each other for a while across the bed, and have a gentle, sweet kiss. We’d be in a loving embrace and give each other soft kisses that would slowly escalate upwards as our hearts would beat and souls would resonate in unison. The next morning, we’d exchange contact information and promise to see each other again.
We’d give each other a call in a day or two. Maybe try a few more calls, but it wouldn’t have been the same again, and then we’d eventually lose touch.

Scenario 5 (what most likely would have happened, negatively speaking): He would have fallen fast asleep on a sofa and left me hanging.

We would have lost touch eventually no matter what the scenario would have been. I wouldn’t have been able to endure all his grandeur and pomposity. He wouldn’t have been able to deal with a young impressionable chick who would listen to his every nonsense.

So for forever now, I can keep making abstract what ifs, make-believe theories, and imagine the possibilities.
Maybe I would have been wrong.


I could, in the night

I could sit out here and draw… no
I could sit by the fire with my lover,
Calm, with the warmth of his body
I could sit on a tree with my legs hanging
And play with the moon that shines between the swaying branches
And with the tantalizing stars
I’ll try singing a verse
‘Till I’m lulled to sleep by the sway