Nostalgia

Let us be the say all
the be all
the see all of ourselves,
with a sort of translucent might.
The past holds up spectacularly,
idiosyncrasies our mind left behind.
we twisted and turned with doubt
at our heedless failings,
yet the failings have not failed me.
They, representing,
a greater piece of being
a sword in consciousness,
made from all the crystallization
of cognitive recognition,
and countless mistakes.
These mistakes are used to battle
greater losses, and ignore
the pain of our precipitated past.
I do not carry these
as a burden, outweighing my body,
but as a box which my
mind decides to open at
any given situation.

Restricted Desire

Roundabout
My hips have become weapons
and so massively intimidating.
Why such a stare my darling?
Do you remember the plump personification
I used to be,
hidden behind the amazon you now see?
Silly!
I thought the years might have
changed your perspective,
perhaps not without a fight from you.
These hips I do now own;
own your eyes in sensual abandon.
These legs you touched,
with dark, maladjusted sensuality,
have slipped your callous fingers
and have slighted your twisted intentions.
I have become such a beautiful thing.
Some ONE you cannot have,
maybe you didn't need,
yet you tried to leash.
None of your chains can bind me.
I have become something better.
something with will power,
as I always hoped to be.
You have my sentimentality,
it is all you will receive.
Everything else is free,
but please,
tempt my seasoned body,
with your immediate jealousy.
Every man in me, took something,
furtively,
held in the fruitful imaginations
of their boyish beings.
And yes, you; most of all,
wanted to be,
inside me.

Where I live

time moves slow, as seen in rational light,
But the existence of space is inevitably engraved in our shallow first sight.
This sight allows most of our decisions to be immediate,
Disregarding the secondary consequences.
I see this time as my life,
A life which ought to exist in the spherical conundrum of infinite memory.
The love which binds me to outward consciousness will never be wasted.
Never be wasted.
It would shame me to waste it.
I find through illumnation,
Addiction to the reality of these concepts is irresistible.
I wish to delay the hurried existence of the initial for a little while longer,
So i may bask in the tender sentiment of a moments passing.