Journal: Juno.
-------------------------------------------Mood: Living
Juno.
I can see the broken glass on the floor I can see the dying rainbow bleed. Black. I can see it all in the eyes of the one who can never be. I see myself falling in love each step of seeping sin, the glass upon the floor. I can see the empty broken cold, I can feel you, I can see you. I don’t know what this feeling is, seeing myself as you, seeing your actions as my own. I can see myself wanting you. Me. I can see. Sight for lack of better sensation. Sight. I felt it once in a dream, a dream to mount all dreams. A dream to dominate. Here is raw emotion. Here is the illogical truth. Here is my Juno.
I would walk each day alone without the truth of your physical presence. For your ocean foam and dark bred eyes, The eyes that burned the cold sand from the caking melody upon my flesh. I desire you as the sun the moon chasing forever in the memory of ancient wars. Even if it was never real. I’d believe in it. For you. Even if every touch was a fabricated mythos, a pathos of drowning breading seeping secrets. Tales we tell to children. Love stories we burn. Because happiness can never be illogical, irrational, it must be formed and planned. I would have married you the moment you took my hand. I would have given birth to a self unlike my own to flesh and bleed with you. Burning sun and drowning stars are the only things that saw me. I am blind to fault of nature when your eyes form within my own. And the pain, the pain is bathed in pleasure. I would carry my life with you. Because the secret of my love, unconditional, nonsensical, unabashed horror. That drifted in from the bowls of darkness to escape the truth. Love for the light. The moon dances and flirts with the sky, with the stars, with the beauty of rivers and ocean waves, to ignore the peace of loving the sun. Who flirts with the race of time to ignore its passion always burning for the forever distant moon. We are the sun, we are the moon. We are. For when I run you chase, though I chase you as I run. You wait to shine upon me, though at times I am not lit. You see all sides and show them. And I to you move the waves in tune with my passions. I would walk a thousand nights in order to prove, nothing at all. Only that I crave you. Only. The burning ancient tales show nothing in comparison to that burning passion that lays to rest hands gripped within me. And when bodies melt, like the earths core one becomes another and turns to something new. Something so magnificent, words compare shameless. There are no words to describe, only out of fear that they lose the essence of their own. Their meaning lies within your hands, your eyes. They lay forever in the fact that, as the sun, as the moon, as the stars that drift so cold alone and distant we may never be again. We never were. Alone and drunk off fumes of us, off eyes that connect in fashion with the times, all times. All times. We never were. Thought times of moment of times of longing and periods at the end of no conversation. I burn only for you. I the moon the sun the drunken stars and ocean waves burn only for you. I am that breeze, that fireflies light without a path, the Gods dare not provoke. We. Us. Them. Thought never be, no touch no screen, only plastic. Dirty rotten flesh that breathes. Breeds. We are the sun and moon. Burning forever in the chase. Burning forever in. Glorification of a soul remarked bold by the passion of the hands. I would have married you the moment my eyes rested on you. I would have walked a death so beautiful the moment our eyes met. Brace me soul for my knees grow weak.
That my dear friend is love. Irrational, Illogical. Nonsensical.
Juno.
All I see is terrified beauty. Black.
...Created 2008-01-22 00:13:17 [ View Past Journals ] [ View as Blog ] |
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