Lock me up, banish me, tear me apart, ravish my brain
and torment my soul. I will never cease, my love
for you will never die. You may treat me like your
dog but I would relish in this, I would be happy to
sit beside you, to lick your shoes and have you beat me.
every particle of my being desires you. I crave you, you
are my drug and without you I will die. Loosing you
would be worse than a thousand deaths. Nothing
more real, nothing more physical. Your body can be mine.
And mine yours if you can only let it. Give yourself up to me,
enter me and make me yours forever.
Leave me and I will bay like a wolf that has lost it's
mother. Kiss me and I will stay by your side, never
straying satisfying your every need. I need you, like earth needs water
to breath, to live, to love.
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
Cathy Earnshaw
Hair that flies wildly in the wind, wrapping my face like your love to my pulsating heart.
The blood beats through my body, ready to burst. As I clutch at his skin, I feel his chest rise and fall, he has to be mine. Lying out on the moors exposed to everything God could ever give. The damp ground and the ice cold winds that sting our skin. The blades of grass tickle my body as we wallow and writhe in each others presence. The smell of his body intoxicating my mind, drawing the sky closer until there is just us, feeling our way in the dark, touching and loving every crease, every droplet of sweat, every breath. Soul consuming, making me scream until my lungs give out. I want to rip every vein from my body and have him take it as his own so that our blood can move together, so that our hearts can beat as one in time to the rhythmical breath escaping from our bodies, flying free when moments of ecstasy are hit, rising and falling as one.
The blood beats through my body, ready to burst. As I clutch at his skin, I feel his chest rise and fall, he has to be mine. Lying out on the moors exposed to everything God could ever give. The damp ground and the ice cold winds that sting our skin. The blades of grass tickle my body as we wallow and writhe in each others presence. The smell of his body intoxicating my mind, drawing the sky closer until there is just us, feeling our way in the dark, touching and loving every crease, every droplet of sweat, every breath. Soul consuming, making me scream until my lungs give out. I want to rip every vein from my body and have him take it as his own so that our blood can move together, so that our hearts can beat as one in time to the rhythmical breath escaping from our bodies, flying free when moments of ecstasy are hit, rising and falling as one.
Once I wanted to be the greatest.
“‘Once I wanted to be the greatest! No wind or waterfall could stall me, and then came the rush of the flood. The Stars at night turned deep to dust.’”
— The Greatest- Cat Power
— The Greatest- Cat Power
Sunday, 21 March 2010
Thursday, 11 March 2010
A room - Imogen Rose
Walking into the room I surveyed the surroundings. The white wash walls and pale mint green plastic chairs. It should have looked clean; it had the smell of something that would have been. However, the chips of paint and streaks of odd colourings would suggest quite the opposite had it been any other kind of room.
The people were few and far between. An old man in a dark green jacket with a chequered scarf. His facial features suggested a life of hard graft with not much happiness yet his eyes told a whole other story. The wrinkles around them were deeply creased and told me that the laughter he had, had come thick and fast throughout his life. The eyes themselves were deep grey with a hint of green. You might ask how I knew so much from just his eyes; at this point I had sat myself down on one of the mint plastic chairs with a somewhat embarrassing squeak. He had raised his eyes with a knowing glance of “It’s happened to everyone dear!”. And in that momentary glance I had gauged the years of laughter, pain and enjoyment he had, had.
Looking to the left of me I could see another elderly looking creature, whose glassed eyes peered over the counter that she sat behind. Now her, I could not make out. The bright florescent light created a glare on the glasses that meant I could not determine the life she had, had. However, I was able to determine one thing, she enjoyed rather too invigoratingly the use of a blue rinse. It shone nearly as brightly as the lights in the cardboard ceiling that seemed to bare down on me as I cast my eyes upwards. I was suddenly aware of a feeling that hadn’t been present until now. A quelling and mumbling in the pit of my stomach. It was nerves of course. The only feeling a place like this could conjure. To make matters worse a little old lady had just tottered out from the glass swing doors and plonked her rather overbearing self down next to me. She had then proceeded to tell me the excruciating details of the ordeal she had just experienced. The murming increased and I was aware of the rising and falling sensation that was now present. If she was to continue I was slightly afraid that I would in fact be sick all over her. Though I’m not sure this would have been a bad idea.
The people were few and far between. An old man in a dark green jacket with a chequered scarf. His facial features suggested a life of hard graft with not much happiness yet his eyes told a whole other story. The wrinkles around them were deeply creased and told me that the laughter he had, had come thick and fast throughout his life. The eyes themselves were deep grey with a hint of green. You might ask how I knew so much from just his eyes; at this point I had sat myself down on one of the mint plastic chairs with a somewhat embarrassing squeak. He had raised his eyes with a knowing glance of “It’s happened to everyone dear!”. And in that momentary glance I had gauged the years of laughter, pain and enjoyment he had, had.
Looking to the left of me I could see another elderly looking creature, whose glassed eyes peered over the counter that she sat behind. Now her, I could not make out. The bright florescent light created a glare on the glasses that meant I could not determine the life she had, had. However, I was able to determine one thing, she enjoyed rather too invigoratingly the use of a blue rinse. It shone nearly as brightly as the lights in the cardboard ceiling that seemed to bare down on me as I cast my eyes upwards. I was suddenly aware of a feeling that hadn’t been present until now. A quelling and mumbling in the pit of my stomach. It was nerves of course. The only feeling a place like this could conjure. To make matters worse a little old lady had just tottered out from the glass swing doors and plonked her rather overbearing self down next to me. She had then proceeded to tell me the excruciating details of the ordeal she had just experienced. The murming increased and I was aware of the rising and falling sensation that was now present. If she was to continue I was slightly afraid that I would in fact be sick all over her. Though I’m not sure this would have been a bad idea.
The Journey - Mary Oliver
Mary Oliver - The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.
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