A single story has many sides it’s presentation in curves where the hip drops to meet a pair of eyes where a mind ripens on the vine for a would be lover
am I an apple blush today or a violent bouquet of violets?
it’s a roll of interpretative dice how I roll out of bed from under what sky line I tear my rain to cover the grass my prints in frost or leaving a seared earth behind; and I’ll be damned they always follow is there no fear than for the animal prime on his hunt no shame no humility under a harlot’s parasol a virgin’s aura?
“you think all men are animals, driven by the urge to f**k?” what a question to ask of the chained maiden of your friend no? I admire his chutzpa though, you know a man who doesn’t dance around the lies or back up from the truth of what he is “yes, I do.” is my answer simplistic, contrived is his “well, I’m not like that” a prevarication or is it just that he doesn’t know himself am I crushing with my “yes you are, you just control it better than most” leaving him there to mull through his own story which has many sides
somedays I ask the animal in the mirror “why are you so cruel, why dash their misbeliefs in themselves?” but the answer is always pressed back into my throat by another plaything’s insistence the believe in love
my story is cruel every side a fragmented diamond sharp and unforgiving in its beautiful phases
when you dream into me something else than I am you’re only lying to yourself; as a well cultivated geisha thing I can fit any lie but the outcome is never pretty
'from under what sky line
I tear my rain
to cover the grass
my prints in frost
or leaving a seared earth behind;'
your brilliance echoes in these lines, so many gems that appeal to me in this, your imagery is unexpected and engaging and i think this is the true strength of your writing, the unique, timeless edge, the natural ability to bring words to life. sometimes the truth isn't what we'd like but without honesty and truth how can we face the world?
'from under what sky line
I tear my rain
to cover the grass
my prints in frost
or leaving a seared earth behind;'
your brilliance echoes in these lines, so many gems that appeal to me in this, your imagery is unexpected and engaging and i think this is the true strength of your writing, the unique, timeless edge, the natural ability to bring words to life. sometimes the truth isn't what we'd like but without honesty and truth how can we face the world?
beliefs are like mirrors one looks into to see the reflections of other mirrors...that others are looking into. So many mirrors one can see, and so true many men are sex driven creatures. What are they looking for indeed?! And many perhaps see there own face in the mirror...but if their idea of themselves is un-reality, what do they really see? Not truth I would wager. Not the actual viewer, rather an idea of themselves! But i love the candid way you treat the subject and I say Amen Sista! "Tell it like it is," as the old saying goes. Why lament the shattering of the deception, of the defeat of the fabrication! The ability to be oneself is rare these days! Loved these lines:
"my story is cruel
every side a fragmented diamond
sharp
and cruel
in its beautiful phases"
over the years i've learned that i can't trust my own brain, so why should anyone else...my genealogy is nothing more that a web woven by spinnerets that ooze their fables in the hopes of spreading seed...but is that the only side of the story....damned if i know
A jaded heart will always see things through tainted eyes and suspicious of everyone around them. It is a different kind of ignorance that keeps them safe from any more emotional harm.
Lady, is there any wonder that when I want crytal clear sanity, I call on the likes of you, and ou never disapoint. And from an insanity of fragmentalised ego's and drives you weave a scalple sharp diamond of a story. Then you burn it to temper it just right. Thank you
Strangely when I read this write Selene I fell an underlying peace, its soothing in voice. As though they are happy with there lot, an understanding beyond what "normal" people can conceive, inner peace? Unsure yet another write deeply coated in honey