Ectasy – writing until the pen runs N2 paradise clarity! (by uniform & random means)

Sensual Orbits

My touch is like a multitude of mountains reaching the glories of heaven.

My words still cease on the street of doubt and inner tribulations.

Like Venus, my rotation is clockwise and I walk backward as Venus to the truth, I’ve always understood.

The peril of heartbreak spoke gently to my fragile soul.

This time, it’s as if the sensual orbits embrace the causes of desire.

You long for me to touch and yield fire to your yearning body.

Even in the thrust of my answer, your mind is deluded to my attire.

As you feel the passion inside of you like thunder, you’re still flashing as lightning first.

I am looking directly into the light and there is a cause to readjust or else I’ll be blind.

What’s more than the sensuality of our orbits designating a strict path of interest?

My prayers are reconciled with the galaxies of knowledgeable monumental pieces of data.

These orbits are sensual indeed as a conversation with a ghost dive at a charm I’m familiar with. Conversation invokes a detailed comfort which courts right at the kiss of lustful memory. I’m feeling the throbbing member which feels a reminiscent courtesy that is allowed because of a distant creation. The universe knows what great length creation took place, as we only struggle to make meaning in and out of its enormity.

The Creatures OF Backward Metamorphosis

It’s not often I wake up with the anticipation to have your arrival AT the front of my window. Being hesitant to interrupt the meeting of intended vibrations, I was very reluctant to even give into the fervent pot of its taste. We all know how it is, to perform ‘manners’ when within a business. We can’t eat without a sense common courtesy in waiting for the other guest. It seems as if the utensils were slowly picked up. My digest reads at the enlargement of your entree.

When the waiter came by my table, she delivered a coy smile, which literally made the butterflies seem to arrange metamorphosis backward. Those caterpillars in my belly stung out the very taste for my food. NOW, that the proposal is laid out on the table, I find myself in joy; as I actually entertain the thoughts of perplexed passion, in an exotic abyss. I’ve been awarded a trophy, but I have never even run the race for a prize. I simply ran because I convinced myself; a monster of annihilation beckoned, my very existence. I’ve never been one to go into the closets of life; I rather become threatened by the horror of those who have the power to conclude my every direction.

I’m simply aware of the coming days of summer, which can linger in the memories of the stories of THOSE OF YOUNG and old. I’m about ready; to scatter those seeds of the matrix on the cracked floors I stand on. NOW, when the door becomes of reach, I am able to turn the knob a little closer to my own codes. I am the only one, who understands the initiation of my beginning and end. Those lines are extremely easy to find out, but when the letter is being written for you, BY SOMEONE else, you begin to wonder why do we write out a plan? Maybe the plan is that a squeal will appear as the premier.

The nature of my flow has now reacquainted; the once shy friend of mine. Friendship has sharpened the sword of revenge. Now, the rain is going to come down. We know, that the very sound of thunder; is not to scare us or intimate us. rather remind us, we were ENLIGHTENED before the sound.

This light never sleeps, it only reveals itself when it’s simply ready to inform you of what is felt. I’ve gained knowledge by the advice of my past, and don’t we all know, those scars and bulges somehow indicate the injury that has been healed? SO, as I ponder through the images of laughter of ecstasy, the sun rises upon the number of clouds which have vanished back into the sea.

Beautiful Asexual

I’m inclined, but in a desire that is exempt from indulgent ecstasy.

There are very few things which deliberate the action and remedy to illness.

We can blame the exogenous factors which are seen throughout the windows or we can simply relate to our own dilemmas in the mirror.

We often neglect the latter; for a more easier approach to blame others.

It seems against the drive to eliminate the passion of understanding.

Very beautifully standing the ‘asexual’ motivation; is hereby unable to be tamed.

It goes in every direction; not looking for a home or a place of rest. It desires not a testimony, neither an oath into the future, rather a tentative examination.

Hesitation journeys on a quest for certainties; what becomes soon clear is its stillness. It is simply ‘Beautiful Asexual’.

A thought that is congruent to this is something I wrote called “Trained Mirrors” Check it out! https://soundcloud.com/jestereyesound/trained-mirrors

Sometimes, what is beautifully standing, is what you can’t have. There is a still a sense of understanding we should give! Not every time can we indulge in what is appealing! Sometimes we get in the way when looking at others. It starts with looking at ourselves!