Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Direct Release of Me.

When juices flow on celebrities' gossip, I fade away, fail to converse along, for a simple enough reason; I pay absolute no attention to unimportant facts that are so corrupted in reality, in the profound perversity of media attention. Eyes frown upon me upon my ignorance making me doubt my esteem, but it comes clear later on in solitude, that principles should stay true to one's self, hence in oppose.


I take joy in fashion because I lust upon beauty. Worldly, yes. A cause, perhaps. Recent months had me going through many articles of clothing expressed through the creativity of designers. I see hope, I sense myself being able to express all I am in J.W. Anderson's 2013 Spring collection in a random selection of a chosen designed costume worn by any of the models. Via Marc Jacob's Resort, I see a brighter, and better future, believing, vivid colorful angular designs, amplifies beauty. Such beauty shall take the world off its mind to war. Lagerfeld's contributions speaks of attributes which focuses serenity, and oneness, blending man and nature. Could the preconception of fashion be more than expensive clothing?


I do not watch TV, spending my time staring into windows, ceilings, thinking of ways to conquer perfection. Always falling back into depressive thoughts because understanding, yet not accepting wholeheartedly that it does not exist. Also pondering the unlimited amount of 'what ifs' in life. You can live a life outside of reality, which of one in mind, should it be strong enough to separate consciousness. Else one would fall into a series of schizophrenic episodes.

I dream of a simple life. One with a companion, children, pet, with no interceptions of the ideology of current social living standards. Away from the world, yet on Earth. Away from fear, away from Death, into everlasting standstill of time. With no misfortunes, with no pain, with no regrets.

In in me grows something anti, diminishing aspects of courage. I fear living, as her, we sometimes wish Death to be our answer.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Composed, Further Than Being.

Winds escaping her lips tend to be blown at higher force at times when turmoil exist among emotions. All are different. Carnal colors bursting forth, mingling in prides of sexes, and of the act itself. Sound of written words, assumed in neglect of truth, but in inclination to self desires, be wrong to deceive one's self, be right in skips of pleasure. Beast of the air, atmosphere radiates a cause, stirring hidden thoughts caused to resurface moments of despair, (and or joy?) with transformation of mattered essence. Twinkle, and shine do the dots journey one to an adventure of mind, creativity not to be bound, and bordered by the current existence, but to push forth to an unimaginable, thus imagined creation, to all that has no meaning, be meaningful. The sense, works in miraculous wonders with time when understood correctly, perform an act of acknowledgement to reality as a whole. What said is there, may be a confrontational belief. Two against integrated segregation of power, a common mixture in simple minds. The vibrating air, with her secrets, must be first loved, in order to befriend her secrets in return. Expansion of what known, first to destruct, then to create, before chisel into scored perfection.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Is Not?

Reality of predisposition thoughts. Silently judging beings without cause. An effect of worthlessness, and one without meaning. A question comes to mind; the reality of life as a whole. An understanding that none shall remain constant, all shall change, all shall end. With that, the reality it creates is one with no attachment. A foot on the ground in a clear case, with the evidence of existence already made obvious, will be raised. Hence it shall come to show that to all that has been proven right, it is not. Deeming right, and wrong, may seem perfectly natural in the core. Right only exist in wrong, and so is wrong to right. The 'yin' and the 'yang'. Creators have made it such that borders are swirled, and not lined, don't this speak for itself that the only consistency it portrays is equality in the attracted opposition. Should borders not exist, unity is of whole. Unity is the end of what we know. There will be a new start, a last start that has a repeated past.

The simplicity of the whole idea, tarnished by evolution. Is it much to ask for, for life to be as seen on the double Cs fairy? I bring on hold a thought of desire.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Only, Maybe.

Echoes of joy, and rhythms of pleasure seep every surface of skin, and the opposite. Plainly said, I'm so proud of her. Bless her soul. Bless me, bless her, bless the world. Bless the earth, and all of it. The unknown lover. The heart-holder. The lyrics of all love songs. Let it be, so shall it be.