someone that will make me feel like i'm burning up and slipping into pure translucency.
dear God send this emulator of fire and instigator of light
..i admit that i am unraveling for you. in the best of ways, i've let you traverse my skin with your mind. and in that moment, i know i can trust that you'll always see right through. that the minute footsteps you make, are nothing more than a pilgrims walk..a traveler's excavation to reach the treasure behind a gilded metal door. heart pounding ferociously to the thought that there's never been one to hold the key.
i was once asked the most unnerving, ..heart-wrenching question from someone i used to know. i considered him a friend... the lines were blurred at times, between.... in fact..he was one of the closest people to my life, in such a short amount of time. i felt my feelings and trust for him (though it died shortly thereafter) were monumental and sincere.
he will never know just how much i....loved ...cared for.....him.
in fact, that is precisely the question. the same question i was asked. he is probably incoherent to this right now,... completely unaware of the turmoil i've felt from losing him. knowing him, this would probably bring him more surprise. probably so preoccupied in the arms of another to notice. he probably doesn't care..
'how could you love someone so much, and them not even notice? i loved her more than any of the guys she's known '
'no one will ever love her, the way i did.'
'could you ever love someone who you never touched?'
i find myself asking and saying the same questions. just the roles reversed.
that lives as a twenty-something year old girl in a rainy city of japan. riding the subway nightly, and constantly finding 24 hour tea houses to snuggle up in sketch the passerby, photograph the neon lit streets, and sketch last nights dream. only to return to her two bedroom apartment where she puts on the phonograph and paints the sketches she made not too long ago. only to pause in intervals to a pot of steaming matcha tea. and caressing her adoring, vibrating male kitty.
a tortured, young, high sensory male writer who lives in a walking film noir. who struggles with a rare personality disorder from birth, which causes him to sense, feel, touch, and taste intangible concepts; memories, other's emotions, and auras. he is trapped in a world that swings between poetic semblance and vivid memories which draw him deeper into a creative abyss. he struggles between actually publishing his words and allowing only a certain sentences to leak, causing unimaginable revelation and life-changing enlightenment to the unsuspecting reader. he is an antihero at heart, never suspecting to be in the daylight.
“Secrecy is the freedom zealots dream of: no watchman to check the door, no accountant to check the books, no judge to check the law. The secret government has no constitution. The rules it follows are the rules it makes up.” -moyers
fell in love with an illusion again. fell in love with an antihero. oh you , young boy.. your troubled mind. come lay your head next to mine,..and i will sweep you over with a cool breath of light.. oh you young troubled boy. i'll be your next plight.