Mediocrity.

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It was mesmerizing. I can tell you that. The way Darkness was inhaling me was mesmerizing. I counted seven stars on the sky, a few humans around and the speed of the cars racing; infinite; at least in my mind. In reality, there was just a soul beside me, humidity in the air and a few cars running sixty miles per hour. But I did not want to see the reality because my surreal dream was so absorbing.

I went back to it and I began rambling again while staring at the spark of the lamp post.

We conversed about the mediocrity of the human soul; me and the universe. I had a soul beside me listening but my mindset was elsewhere. I was imagining myself on an untidy bed, a soul losing its’ mind into my eyes, between my legs.

Devouring a soul and lifting it up to the defining line of the universe it’s the most exquisite gift a human can receive. Keeping it on the ground, sane and steady, can cause the syndrome of mediocrity. Judging the corruption of the soul would be a great mistake if you do so gentlemen. Define happiness if you can though and you will understand what I am mumbling about.

Perhaps you’re not interested in my definition of it but I am free to state it anyway.

Devouring happiness: the liberty of the soul to collude with the walls of dispair while reflecting itself into the depth of a moment’s realisation.

The eyes, love. The eyes. Lose yourself into the mournful excitement of those eyes.

Mediocrity. Lose it. Give it up. Chase your soul to the end of the world. Do not keep your greatness intact.

Ruin yourself, stay still and feel the adrenaline of your blood. Now you’re not mediocre anymore.

But, can you do that?

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Addicted.

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We should stop seeing each other.
We should stop playing with our demons.
I inhale you. I can feel your hands touching me from a distance. The untamed desire sets me on fire. It burns and I cannot stop. Your smirk excites me. Your hands fill me and I breath deeply, exhaling hard and coming. You come closer to my lips without touching me. It’s exasperating. Half of my body is wet and the other half is wizened. I’m losing control and I am lifting my chin towards you. You’re half smiling again passionately, moving your head around. I am still powerless, licking my lip needy. You’re playing with my desire. You push yourself inside me and my voice trembles. I am losing it. I grab your neck and squeeze you hard as you keep pushing and insisting on me with that smirk of satisfaction.
We should stop.
You let go of me easily and I am relieved.
Your demons won’t leave me alone while your hands are playing with the line between my back and my front. You run gently between my legs and hardly getting inside I find myself coming unexpectedly.
You run your body on me, throwing words into my mouth, without letting me taste you.
We should stop seeing each other.
It’s becoming addictive.
I want you.
Your mind is heroine. Your perfume is cocaine. Your lips… oh those lips!
We should stop.
I wish I wanted it to stop.

Inspiration…Lost?

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There it was my inspiration swinging like a flake before my eyes. I could see it but I could not touch it. My mind evoked a breeze, a hopeless wind that pushed it away, ravished it on the ground. But my inspiration would not let go. The gravity was not powerful enough to overtake its’ strength. My flake was floating helpless but still alive. For a moment there was no time. It was just a thin shadow in the air that was standing still, waiting for me to unlock the door of my mind. But I couldn’t. Even if I desired to diminish that door, I couldn’t. It was something more than I could conceive or accept. I feared a shadow had control over my subconscious. Perhaps that was it. Someone or something that controlled my emotions.
Unfortunately I figured it out. I was controlled by my own desperate thoughts. I wished I could go back to my dream. I wished for that silence that overwhelmed me.
The midday sun hays blurred my thoughts. Why?