Okay so spring break officially sucks.
I'm working 30 hours this week which is good becuase I need to money, but I was hoping on totally relaxation time- you know time to spend with friends and stuff. What? You mean I have to have friends to spend time with them?? well that sucks...
I officially think Mr. Hampster has issues with commitment. Surprise? no. Did I figure this out a long tiome ago? yeah. Was I hoping he'd change? no not really. Can I get over him now? who knows.
As much as I love him I honestly think I am not only insane but in extreme need of time spent far far away. Not just a spring break, but a spring break in say cancun, where there is no reminder of Hampy.
Good lord I need a life.
I'm going to go make cookies and cry about not having anything fun to do for the rest of the week.
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Welcome. If you want truth, you just passed it. This is Idealism.
Whispers of Temptation
I, much concerned with life
Saw the skull beneath the skin
And lustful creatures all around
Lean forward with lips full and grin.
Dead brown roots instead of balls
Drain the attention of wandering eyes
He knew my rambuncitious thoughts
Called in by lusts and luxeries.
He, I guessed, was a hands-on learner
Who could control not his fervor
To seize.
And force.
And dictate.
Calmed by nothing but that which penetrates
His flesh knew not patience,
His hand an expert beyond experience,
My body not yet a temple,
And I, quickly lead by harsh desires.
* * *
Summer was nice : The extreme heat
Gave way to naked skin
For short, but sweet unknown release
Giving fruitless promises of bliss.
From a chaise lounge, One can see a world.
Observing, planning, asserting.
Scheming.
Mouth-watering.
From which he pounced; and with quick declaration.
"I lust for you"
A force on my subtlty.
Even the slightest hint
Aroused a deeper cry
For flames that danced between
To keep the empty warm.
On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur, l'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.- Antoine de Saint-Exupery, Le Petit Prince
Writing Baltimore.
Welcome. If you want truth, you just passed it. This is Idealism.
Me, Playing Poet.
Whispers of Temptation
I, much concerned with life
Saw the skull beneath the skin
And lustful creatures all around
Lean forward with lips full and grin.
Dead brown roots instead of balls
Drain the attention of wandering eyes
He knew my rambuncitious thoughts
Called in by lusts and luxeries.
He, I guessed, was a hands-on learner
Who could control not his fervor
To seize.
And force.
And dictate.
Calmed by nothing but that which penetrates
His flesh knew not patience,
His hand an expert beyond experience,
My body not yet a temple,
And I, quickly lead by harsh desires.
* * *
Summer was nice : The extreme heat
Gave way to naked skin
For short, but sweet unknown release
Giving fruitless promises of bliss.
From a chaise lounge, One can see a world.
Observing, planning, asserting.
Scheming.
Mouth-watering.
From which he pounced; and with quick declaration.
"I lust for you"
A force on my subtlty.
Even the slightest hint
Aroused a deeper cry
For flames that danced between
To keep the empty warm.
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Appearance should not be mistaken for Truth...
Quelque chose que j'épargne juste pour vous.
- Louise
- Something more, a little less, and just all around satisfying. A small lyrical, satirical, heart felt, heart melt with a cherry on top for you and your mom.
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