That emaciated freak on the street,
The guy living in the gutter,
Is a great fucking writer,
That old washed up bum has been places
She's Elysian. Her mind is resplendent, like an exploding super nova, absorbing everything and bursting with furious flames of intensity and creativity. She has eyes that are fathomless oceans of blue, beautiful and mysterious. Her face is flawless marble shaped by ethereal hands. I cannot resist her, she is a paradox, exciting yet vulnerable. She is like a fading dream that I long to revisit. A delicate, twisted, suicide angel fallen from heaven.
Madness, Faith And Ecstacy
I drink from your cup of madness,
And determine your dark mysteries,
Dwelling languidly within your mouth,
Abides the bitter sweet kiss of destiny,
Dancing to the celestial lunacy of your eyes,
And swaying to the bedlam of your mind,
Infected by the insanity of the moment I rise,
Moistened by the crazed rapture of my tongue,
As I penetrate the contours of your desire,
You will begin the pilgrimage of ecstasy,
And Feel the tides of pleasure,
Rise within your body a masterful crescendo,
Crashing over your senses,
Like spastic quivering exploding stars,
In the heat of passion conceive,
Holy, Religion, God, Euphoria! ! !
On darkened streets and in drunken bars,
I have taken punches,
But I always gave as good as I got,
When I was growing up in the hell that was home,
The people that should have looked out for me were the ones giving the abuse,
And I have learned for a while,
To live without money or food,
To live without family or friends,
But the thing that toughened me the most was my greatest weakness,
For all the relationships I cared for,
All the flings and encounters in strange beds,
Out in the wild or near the ocean under the stars,
For all the sweet smiles and joyous laughter,
All the broken hearts and furious tears,
I learned not to care
A Letter To Amira
It's 5am here and you are drunk on white Russian's asking me if I am broken?
Now's way too early for painful memories and sweet nostalgia,
Too early to think of lost friends and broken hearts.
When I was a child I used to hold my sister in my arms, protecting her from the psychological abuse of having two warring parents use our home as an epic battleground.
The first taste I had of loss was when my grandfather Antonis had died.
My parents broke his heart when they divorced and he spent the following year drinking bottles of whisky until his liver was scarred beyond recognition.
At seventeen I was so full of insecurities and bad memories I contemplated suicide so many times I'm surprised I ever reached eighteen.
I remember listening to insomnia when I really had insomnia when my friend fell from the rooftops to his death,
Or the sadness of Maria the angelic looking school teacher that didn't eat for six months and then discovered she had stomach cancer,
Or knowing that I once had a brother who shared my name and died before I was born my ex would swear that she spoke to him in her dreams,
Why would I even want to venture the recesses of my soul to bring these scars back up to the liquid surface of my mind?
Why should I show you that all human beings are vulnerable you must know this?
I remember the faces of all the girls that touched my heart there laughter and tears,
Each one still has a piece of my heart and I a piece of there's
Some merely travel with us in our memories others haunt us in our dreams.
What of my innocent Athena the victim of two parents who no longer loved one another.
Walking out on her that day the trauma of leaving makes all the other things pale in comparison.
We are estranged now if she were to see me her soft cotton brain would not even recall how I used to hold her on my belly and stroke her hair.
Then there was Athena my daughter's aunty who as a diabetic got gangrene in her leg and suffered the indignity of learning about her husband's infidelity,
The doctors amputated her limb and she screamed at night for morphine...I will not even tell you how this story ends because it is too grueling,
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