Sparked eyes,
Her life’s oceans,
Held within them
Ultimate love.
Sky’s graces matched,
Lights, the sun held
Each of us in turn,
Rocked above troubles.
Open fire, marshmallows…
Above, the milky way,
Bed of a truck, the moon.
We laughed, dancing
As children, stealing
Kisses from eternity.
That is her gift.
Minds, we remember
reaching waves give, take,
Her time, our compass,
If we ever lose our way.
She is at the top of the Hill,
And it’s time for dinner.
When I arrived at the table with my best friend, Liz, I told her the gossip. I’d had the most unusual event happen to me the day prior. I couldn’t wait to share. We talked small at first, growing into bigger topics.
“So you’re telling me this guy had several doubles that you like?” Liz said. “That doesn’t sound like a guy you want to mess with, not even with your oblivious senses.”
“He’s not a spy,” I said.
“How would you know? What is he? They pretend to be so many people. Just because
you saw some show with him on it.”
“No, I wouldn’t get involved with a spy. They make terrible husbands anyway, always gone, in constant danger, worried late nights with a tissue box, the fear of the kids overhearing the wrong words and being shot. I have arrived at a conundrum, however,” I said.
“And what cockeyed dimple from a smiling fool has brought you to this ‘conundrum”’ Liz asked. She smoothed out her long blonde hair that went almost to her waist, at least a three-hundred dollar wig. Her petite nose brought more attention to her emerald eyes and pinched pink cheeks.
“Let’s say the double asks you on a date, but you want the original, or perhaps the unoriginal man, or whoever, the love at first sight.”
“And why would you want the original?” Liz asked. She giggled and moist drops accented her purple lips, always a character. I guessed she found my problem comical.
“Maybe I read his book somewhere, or maybe I like what he majored in, or maybe…”
“You’re a gold-digging whore who wants to make it big, escape your class? You wouldn’t be the first on the cherry-picking ladder.”
“Hey, now, Liz, you’re with a lawyer at the moment,” I reminded her in a sour tone.
“Ladies gotta lie,” Liz said, “Anything you say can be held against you in a court o fo law–
Women judge their gossip.”
I rolled my eyes.
“That isn’t the reason I want the original,” I said, “Or the unoriginal or whatever. He looks
so badass in that all-black hoodie outfit on the cover of the magazine. I like his smile, too, like mocking me and eating me. There’s only one major feature that changes, his nose. Sometimes his nose is small. Sometimes, it is large. Sometimes, it changes shape. I’ve narrowed the two I want down to the nose. One is a big crescent moon, and the other is small and shapely with those eyes piercing into your soul, taking it into his mind.”
“The eyes aren’t the nose or the smile,” Liz told me.
“One looks soft and gentle, and the other one looks tough and fierce,” I said.
“Who has the bigger bank account?”
“LIZ MARLEWORTH!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she pleaded and then sighed.
There was a moment of silence.
“So which one did you pick?”
“The richest one so that I can torment you!,” I roared.
Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me. We’d been talking too loudly. A man came and looked at me with those black eyes. I kept my mouth shut and tried to calm my heart down.
“Well, ladies, are you missing something?”
What was he doing here?
“I wanted to give this back to you.” The man handed me my passport, smiled, and then took an attractive, tall redhead, and they walked away, laughing.
Too bad I couldn’t leave the moment on a plane to "Paper Bag Town."
I reached down and grabbed the energy drink out of my cooler that cracked as I put my hand into the bag. The fizzing liquid, clear and bubbly, went down my thirsty throat. The taste of blueberries erupted in my mouth. I closed my eyes for a moment and puckered my face as the substance traveled to my stomach.
My life was chaotic, unmastered, and I was mostly ignored. This gave me a feeling of freedom that words can’t charge pictures for. At home, my parents fed me, clothed me, provided a thick, grey roof over my head, and yet, to them, I was nothing but an inconvenience for them. A baby popping into the world wasn’t their idea. I came in much the same way condoms break and don’t fly away like red balloons. At least those showed a warning.
Annoyed with my thoughts I picked up a basketball and shot it at the goal. It bounced off the board, and I ran after its orange hopping soul.
Grabbing the sphere, I looked up and saw a strange man dressed in pink with a yellow ball cap, wrinkled and stained as if from the garbage can.
“Excuse me, sir,” I said.
“Indeed or in deed,” he repeated, and I noticed two different words.
“I…”
“Oh, my name is Eric, inspector of Earth.”
I didn’t reply.
“I have a question for you,” he said. I noticed he lacked a shadow.
“I need to get going,” I said.
“Just give me a thought for a penny.” My lower lip quivered, but I kept my fear silent. The guy was either crazy or trying to pull some stunt. I needed to keep my guard up.
“I…”
“So, in your cognition, is a thought true or is an action true?”
I paused perplexed by his reference, in your cognition.
“Um.”
“Look, I have three other planets to fly to today. You popped up in the computer, so don’t feel too special,’ the being said. A feeling of anger rose in me. He continued, “If you think of scoring a goal and your ball fails to achieve the thought, is the thought false?”
“Okay, weirdo,” I said. “The thought is true. The action is false.”
He chuckled, “Always a human. We knew you would go like space drums and the" Olgies.”
“Well, fine, the thought is false,” I said.
“The thought lead you to throw the ball and make a goal. It is difficult to put this concept into an insane species’ head. I’ll tell you that your thought is a lie and that you don’t know it because you’re barely conscious, as is the rest of your species. Well, goodbye in so many ways.”
“Wait!” I yelled out in vain. The alien disappeared, a faint scent of sulfur filled the air.
So aliens fart when they leave.
That’s the trophy of human humor, a thought entered my head.
Go away, I thought back.
Already am, dear.
So, yes, James has seen some horrible things in war. The soldiers of this generation are able to do them because they don't understand consequences, pain, or empathy. People in my generation can slaughter a hundred people and feel nothing. They might laugh and think it's cool.
They have programmed us to be sociopaths or spoiled brats who have not a care in the world. They are so much better. That's why you spank your kids. Pain is real. Pain is a consequence of doing the wrong thing.
I've always been a little off. I come from insanity to start with.
My mind broke young due to abuse, that's what my sister says. I'm a child in a woman's body. They mocked that. I used to look it, too. A lot of guys are into that. But I was thrown against petty millionaires who think they matter. Now they're asking me if I'm trying to impress Durov with my poems, nope. I'm trying to impress him by spitting seeds across the room. Not only do I have a head of personalities, but I'm also a doorway and become other people. They've damaged my mind quite a bit.
In the army, they want to test their opinion maker. Would people like me, as in "Eat Me, Drink Me," be shot to death. I think I'm a "Butterfly next to your flame." The other stuff, well, indeed, I am a young teenager in an obese woman's body.
When they torture you, you are not supposed to explain why or such, but when you stop responding due to shock or pain, you may want to get a t-shirt, "Because I'm dead."
Keep working for the "smart" people like Musk.
I'll keep impressing my boyfriend Durov.
https://www.huffpost.com/entry/war-veterans-thank-you-service_n_61df1b97e4b0ee023e692528
I've always been a little fucked up in the head. My sister tells me I shattered young due to our lives. As some sort of coping mechanism, I not only developed different personalities like DID but not the TV way, different awarenesses and voices, some of who were my friends. I also have a young personality that I only let out at home. Well, I guess sometimes it slips. I've been abused in almost every way you can imagine, not sexually in a penis sort of way, just being thrown up against rich people and socially destroyed even more. People used the mating game to knock me out, to make me go to Hell if I don't degrade myself or date a hobo on crack. It's like, that guy would have paid bank to fuck me 20 years ago, speaking of wealthy, not rich. Due to a certain reaction, I looked like a little kid longer. Sadly, it goes the other way soon because the body can only take so much.
I didn't completely suffer all those years because I wasn't always with the same awareness. I also went to Beetard land that protected me while making me fumble like an idiot and talk about Rainbow Brite and "Happy, happy, rape, happy, happy." -- Marilyn Manson. He's also going to the Russians if I have my spoiled way. "Happy, Happy, Prison Camp, where the guards are gay, and it's a-okay. And the Russians hate that rainbow for some reason. Denial? Perhaps they send all their homosexuals to the prisons. Then again, Russians like ass, so it's not totally gay with sword fights. It's just bawling on a budget.
I've spent many years on the wards and seen quite a bit. The people who are the most messed up are my generation. The females are usually there for money. We were poor girls, and so we're married to Uncle Sam. Leaving home and getting pregnant in the service dooms many. He'd have to take care of us some way, any way, so don't hate. Many continue to have babies and hang out at bars. They are very proud of their service. I'm happy they are happy. Some of them say they were raped by Generals, multiple generals, and it's like, ladies, you must be nuts. If they did that, you would have committed suicide with a bunch of acid on you...
Someone in the military decided to hunt me while I was in. This is common with females, as we're hated by many, too. One girl I shammed with in the sauna had her entire previous command after her. Anyway, they are testing opinions and wanted to know what the public would think of my death by firing squad, so they made me a traitor and worship Putin, as I lay on the floor. I could tell you they're not going to like that for many reasons. People aren't as stupid as these guys. "The ending didn't test well." From Eat Me, Drink Me. "I thought I was a butterfly next to your flame... I see my horror at sundown with a blank stare." This goes back to the hatred of women in the military, too. Like I said, when I was younger, I looked like a child, and there are a lot of pedophiles out there or people who like that look. Then they put me by the playground, for I am but a child. Yes, I am. I'll giggle at you in that version and make your day bad. Don't doubt me :P I hit on every officer when I was med-boarded out since I was constantly accused.
James knows many things that nobody else ever will. The Iraq veterans are the worst off if they have morals because our society does not, and it raised them to be sociopaths and be demons. Some would say they have no fear of God like Blue Stahli. It goes beyond that. They have no understandings, no consequences. I may be a child trapped in a woman's body, but they are like children telling other children to drink antifreeze then crying and butchering their dead friend's corpse because he won't get a glass of milk for the other. It's like, OMG, the kids aren't alright. Life means nothing. Their souls (egos) belong to the head raptor. I really hope I'm impressing Durov with my poems. Punish me. You guys are stupid to use them. I've let you. No, I thought it was cool I spit seeds across the room. He was taking over my awareness before that. Yes, I can invite people in as well. Some people are doorways. They've damaged a lot of this. I sleep a lot.
They are surrounding our communities and doing things like this. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B6_iQvaIjXw This is a video by Ms. Ariana Grande. They make people horny or partner. I don't know why they don't drag them in and just implant the fetus. I'm sure it'll get to that.
Many of us need t-shirts because after torturing us and yelling at us for screaming in pain, we stop responding. They get mad and keep going. You've raped me with rays so many times, I don't care. However, some of them injure us, and we squeal. Then we stop. Our t-shirt reads, "Because I'm dead." They don't even understand pain or injury or that we will die. We aren't in a video game, much as ABIR wants us to be.
They also kill us by stopping our hearts, which bleed, and then our head swells with a hypoxia injury. Ouchie. I wander between the worlds.
After everything and more, they expect us to work. Um... I want to take all of their money and make them all work in soup kitchen for the rest of their lives with their money going toward homeless housing. May dreams come true.
Rouse me, Lord,
A path less traveled.
Emotions, sparks, yours!
I, a simple creature
In the garden of Time.
Never truly lost, alone
We wore ourselves
In manifesting desire.
Love, undress me!
