malina

so, I am in a lot of pain... physically, as well as emotionally. I told my lovely friend MistressKat that I was going to take some pics today, but I'm just not up to it. I Know that she won't hate me for it though . I swear that I will take pics as soon as I feel better.


The good news is, everything is working out wonderfully as far as the plans for getting married and such go. so, that is good.


Thought I'd take a bit of time and post some more of my writing. Funny thing, I'm a member of the poetry group, yet, I never post anything there.


After that, I'm going back to bed. I feel like shit today and it hurts just to be sitting here.




The silence was broken
by the sound of him ripping
the love stories and fairytales,
and throwing them in the fire.

He let it slip away at midnight;
she's prettier from the bottom
of a bottle and the stars in her eyes
are just bits of ash.

Bite the darkness and crucify the light!
I've never tasted Jesus
and Mary died with sinners blood.

I would have stood to die.
for him.





Your memory faltered-
where was I when it happened?

wind rustled lullaby's
and nights i found no sleep
though looking for it had its advantages
on the edges of sleep i discovered a congregation
of unforgotten, disregarded questions

-we danced until the moonlight shattered
into mid afternoon, when i found
that i left the shutters closed-
hugged by curtains-
which kept the light from
proving its existence.

Its complicated
these roads winding
-some lead to cliffs.
We drank till the next morning came
and in hazy sleep shrouded
early morning
we compared mythologies.

we were naked then, and in the rain
and you kissed my fingertips
till i fell asleep with delirium.

the runestones spelt disaster
on a grey field.
No mans land.

And I wish I loved you
when i touched you.

You forgot the absence in my eyes.




night time whispers its illusions
into a lucid mind, drenched
in milky starlight and
unborn tears.

She feels incredible passion
but for no one.
No one sparks her passion.

She lies alone, with her fingers
and circles,
her pen on the page-
gestures she'd share with flesh
marked canvas.

but no one answered.
she didn't even call.


She's got a vested interest
in self destruction
so she loves the brute with
the calloused hands who loves her under covers
with the skill of a technician
and the presence of a doctor
thats in the other room.

Lines crossed and borders disjointed
storm clouds are rolling in
the distance is altered
by her wavering balance
and tired eyes.

Heavy on her shoulders
and heavy on her mind,
burdens sown and mounted
into walls she'll never climb.

Demons she won't face.

she's lying in an existential vacuum
without a blindfold.
But it cannot be forgotten
that she put herself there,
'cause she's a sucker for self-destruction.




Graceful infidelities
leave a sleepy residue in waking
an ecstasy or passion
like a fresh morning dream.

Dreamers lie and poison.
Sinners are more forgiving
then plastic saints on windowsills.

Theres a whisper, silent
putting visions in your head.
A sticky white fluid
so thick
your vision
blurs.

And now the face of grace has altered.
And you're left with a misery
and your heart in a hotel.


the words you scribbled on the walls
another bleeding tragedy
i want no part in.
I could chew you up and
savor the flavor
for an eternity.

But you'll always be spit out again.
and you wouldn't have it any other way.


you're a priest and
I'm your savior.

and you're losing your religion
cause i've gotta say goodbye sometime.




I have an empty pill bottle
An empty jar of dreams
A book that has no pages
And I'm feeling overwhelmed.

Theres too much to give up
And nothing left to loose.


Should I bother telling you you were beautiful
whin those pictures?
I just stared.
No constellation could touch you
and i could hear aphrodite gritting her teeth.

By the river, the leaves were turning colors,
and the light painted pictures in the skies.
While the brandy, sipped, grew warm in your hand.
and for the first time i felt jealousy
for the glass that you were touching.

Sacred remembrances are delicate
they should be kept safe from
everything
but my hands.

She sits by the river
and I sit
beside her
Her head is on
my
lap.

her hair, thick and dark
is around
her neck
and under my fingers.

she is beautiful.
She is
Mine.

And the blood
is on her dress.


You landed on a field marked nowhere
with nothing to hide
and the sweat on your back.
Peaceful trophies.

In the long grass, her hair
brushed your ankle,
you mistook her for a Diety
-an easy mistake.

Nothing hurts more
than nothing at all.
There's no solitude like
peace of mind.

Even saints loose battles.

She left fond memories in
battle scars on your neck
and shoulders.
But all you wanted was to hear her
breathe.


The shutters open dreary nights
with no starlight upon us.
We were not worthy of the footprints
in the sand tonight, our
transgressions build us into passions,
and fits of crying murderous thoughts.
No blood shed but your own
and the nights forsaken the lament
you nurse at night, crying to orion.
Where did your gods betray you?
Your palm of faith knew no virtue
on night when you could taste of
womens flesh and wine was on our
breath.
We will find no redemption here.
No story, myth or lie that would
call us to some godly council-
redeem the hearts we lost along the
way. The messiah will not come.
We will sleep with our transgressions,
between blankets stained with sin.


I wrote forever in the sand
and watched the crashing waves
wash it all away. How appropriate
and human this sentiment becomes.

The hallways echo in my footsteps
and this is where i wish i was
anywhere, with anyone besides
my pen and these creaking hinges.

The thought expanded into red
and velvet bloodstains on
a midsummer evening,
center stage, of course.

The streets were littered with
tracks and robotic bodies
grease stains and a tan-
like a whiskey soaked memory.

I tried to sing that song for you
one more time, lift your lighters
but i couldn't reach the notes
you stood to high to hear me.

Who were you in that dream,
with the beauty marks and
the small paintbrush in
your teeth. And did I need you?

But i woke up with a cold
and a chill inside my bones.
Was I thinking of you then?
I cannot recall.

But this is just a daydream,
and you're nothing at all.


I do not ache for you.
Not anymore.
These hands, unfinished
do not trace lines
in the back of the closet
with the spiders and indifference.

Sooner or later it all
breaks down,
to a vow of silence
and
incomprehensible
nothing.

Why do I ache
if not for you?


the wallpaper soliloquy
groans heavy in the light
of these candles
we reflected into mirrors
and through crystal
in the pupil of my eyes.

Are we still here?

She's getting sick of the
breaks in conversation
and the way you stare
incredulously,
when i know what you're
gonna say.

It makes my heart heavy
when I smile and don't
mean it.

You just walked through the door
and tugged at the edges of a memory
you left on the other side.

I'm alone here, with my drink
and my pills
and the faded paintings in the window
from the house next door.


I went to seek heaven
in guided meditation
and when i found the almighty
i asked him if we were meant
to love or to produce?
to grow, or become static
in fear of retribution.

I waited a moment,
surely he need not ponder this

There was no answer.

'Her breasts are beautiful'
I told him with an oil finished
glaze.
He cocked his head and squinted:
'it makes them real' he says.

Would he make love to her?
Take a walk in her plastic
alter.
(sigh)
I would If i were capable.

While she was kissing her
begotten's feet, with tears
and grace marked in the lines
upon her cheeks.

I asked him and he did not know.
He could not answer.


What can be expected
from the degenerated soul
it's passion wrung out
to a slow drip.
Shall he go
uninhibited?

There is no vindication
where virtue goes unrecognized.
No soul to keep you warm at night
just the tempest at the
doorstep.

I could not find you
nor tears to mourn
your absence.

Just the passion
in a puddle
and a silence
on the step.


From the ruins and
the broken bridges,
the pale blue colored
release
corrupted endeavor
fell from the flowers
to the wind and the seas
of malicious intent.

We were not worthy.

I found a notebook
with your iniquities
and watched your decent
into splendid antiquity.
Uninvited.
I was not worthy.

I fell in love with
your unattached fear.
The way you didn't need me
and clung, despite your
better judgment.
I should not be invited.

I did not need you.
(...can you read between
the lines..?)
I didn't want to need you.


{edited to add}

I wanted to share the beautiful vows that I wrote for when the boy, champ111485, and I get married.



You are not the air that I breathe,
You are the sweet scent that drifts upon it

You are not the sounds that I hear,
You are the music of my life

You are not the food that I need,
You are the nourishment of my soul

You are not my will to survive,
You are my reason for living

It is with you that I experience the wonders of the world

It is with you that I triumph over the challenges in my path

It is your partnership that will lead me to the fulfillment of my dreams

It is your friendship that guides me as I grow and learn

It is your patience and wisdom that calms my restless nature

It is through you that I know my true self

I do not take you for granted,
I cherish you

I do not need you
I choose you

I choose you today in witness of all the people who love us

I choose you tomorrow in the privacy of our hearts

I choose you in strength and weakness

I choose you in health and sickness

I choose you in joy and sorrow

I will choose you, over all others, every day for all the days of my life