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This Dream UnconditionalWe fled from a holocaust of merciless Into the moon-lit darkness In a rush of panic, We flew the fence and landed on our toes We were two soul-mates with nothing to lose Our legs wouldn’t stop brushing the grass Not until we fell under a picnic tree You landed on me and kissed my hair Then my lips found your cheek You shed a teardrop oh-so glimmering like a pearl You begin to speak words I thought you gave up Then we lay there, in a sea of each others eyes Our frozen lips greet without restriction Nothing could break us then And nothing would harm our pasThis Dream Unconditional
by ~Rest6In6Pain6
An Evening Spent In SnowAn evening Her and I spent in snow, I whispered into her ears the forbidden language we cannot speak aloud. She hears my words and repeats them to me. Born in love with a wicked angel, she leans her face closer to mine and sends an erotic message unto my lips. We commence conceiving in the winter frost by nightfall. I feel heavy emotion melting the ice coating my heart. Tell me, is this a dream? Is it all that it seems? This infant I hold, did we really conceive? When you evanesce into the snowy fog, I came after your bare figure. It ended there in a daze… …It does appear the dead wake.An Evening Spent In Snow
by ~Rest6In6Pain6
The Greatest Meditation SpotPresenting the Toilet! The most excelling spot in the entire universe for meditation. Non-believers; let me ask you this; where else in the world can you gain more privacy than occupying the john? The soothing sensation of pressuring the vertebrae is relaxing for both mental and physical status with the genitals fully revealed and dangling about. The mind is thinking most freely provided with psychological and physiological purification at the expense of letting out what you were holding in at any other time.The Greatest Meditation Spot
Martin Luther king was taking a shit at Wittenberg monastery while he dreamt of Protestantism. As for me, I do my best reading w
by ~Rest6In6Pain6
Rise Without ShineIts morning, the reflections of midnight sources daze over my head in a sudden rush to my memory coping with the internal ecstasy of dancing with night goddess Nox in the moons melancholy glisten. All of which is night is eaten by the sun's radiant lambency, alongside the yellow-bellied stars hiding amongst the Mother, giving birth to warmth and my weary soul. I could have some coffee with a few spoons of sugar to chemically heal myself, however, if I am artificially altered, than who am I? Am I a Son without his Moon, or a Moon without her Sun?Rise Without Shine
by ~Rest6In6Pain6
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