Blurred weekend. Black, white, shades of grey, rose rouge, multi-coloured and hazy green. Everything the same , but I enjoy the levels.
Loopy. Paltry appetite. Sloooow. Traveling so far up my ladder to forever that I was untouchable. All the symptoms of being lovesick...with none of the pain. But I'm in it nonetheless. Examining this piece of the puzzle. Breaking it down so I can build it up. I couldn't resist the draw of my own inner landscape. Lost...almost. Shimmering thoughts...ephemeral concepts. A journey to clarity.
I'd been a "bad" girl for some time, so I needed to be spanked. It didn't hurt though; done the right way it brings a sort of zeal. I know when things are orchestrated by the divine dj, so instead of stumbling, I jig with it.
The beat...a slow come-up. Oh fuck. It's going to be a good one.
The approach was stealthy, but I knew it was Her. Ms. Stress. The one that will hold you to her breast. Rock your world until you either twirl...or stumble and fall. Fireater. She loves the men so she devours them. The passion gets her cauldron bubbling. She overflows. Spews it back at them; hoping they will appreciate and see. Come on...get it. Decipher the language of we. Languish in the Sun. And then maybe take a dip in the pool.
I think it's the heat of it...too intense. Too much. They retreat; searching for the safe and known. Get blown. Jaded. Then they return. "You were right." "I realize..."
Whuat? That I'm good for a fuck? That I can be your security blanket? Your lover undercover? Certainly you're not looking at the big picture, which is that this shit right here is a feedback loop. Big whoop. I've done this before. We meet, meld, you turn away. Come back. We play. Boooring.
This old game of separation and limitation. Allowing myself to be viewed through distorted lenses. Getting lost in translation. Closed hearts don't get fed or read so all it becomes is mix-up and confusion. Oh drama! War games. So you "think" that? I'll be that. Do me and I'll do you back. Hurt me and I'll hurt you.
Kill or be killed.
I died. But I've also survived to become the fittest chick I know. Not a hoe or a side show. Your attempts to make me a pawn?
Yawn.
I'm beyond all that. Although I sometimes play the role of a bitch or a tail-switching man magnet to get what I want. But don't front...it ain't you.
It's Him. But he can't see it.
I can't care, because I do. So booo to this repeat performance. You attention whore! I was over here snoring, until I got the beat. When you don't resist, it's real easy to dance to.
1-2-3-4. Loves. A few paramours. 11 + 11 = 22. He was a 9 when I met him. I didn't get Him.
But give me a moment whilst I study this dope rhyme. Oh ok! He's the 5th element. Ether...he comes from The Sun. The One. I moon over him...orange and sometimes blue. Pout when he isn't evangelistic to my brilliance. Throw tantrums. I simply don't care. Kiss or kick, I love. And I don't have to prove shit. I move shit out of my way. Yaaaaay I say when I get it. I throw my hands up, 'cause this is quite the ride.
Bonnie and Clyde. Unstoppable.
When I watch we, I watch S(he). We've grown.
33.
Posted by Lisa at August 17, 2008 01:34 PM