tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78459641917668918082024-03-06T11:10:43.855+02:00her-twisted-thoughtsemotions radically expressed to fit the not-so-normal mind and feed its strive for the unreal, the unmoral and the not-so-politically correct.angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.comBlogger260125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-35648398258709341492012-10-07T12:46:00.003+03:002012-10-07T12:46:40.295+03:00Silence*<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #351c75;">I woke up this morning to the sound of silence</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #351c75;">It is a beautiful sound to wake up to</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #351c75;">That and the sound of another human's breathing</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #351c75;">Too close to one's ear</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #351c75;">While it rains outside.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #351c75;">I woke up this morning to the sound of silence</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #351c75;">While inside my head the voices were talking to me still</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #351c75;">Repeating words that once left your lips</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #351c75;">Putting my mind in a kind of haze </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #351c75;">Mobilizing all my senses</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #351c75;">I could actually smell you, feel you </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #351c75;">I woke up this morning to the sound of silence</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #351c75;">And my heart felt heavy with the void you left in me</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #351c75;">When the memory of you is no longer enough to fill the blankness</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #351c75;">What could I possibly do to quiet this loaded silence?</span></div>
angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-49099104608717034052012-09-28T00:34:00.002+03:002012-09-28T00:34:34.824+03:00At that moment in time...<br />
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I open my eyes</div>
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My vision does not change</div>
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It's darker still</div>
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Darker than it was when I had my eyes shut</div>
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<br /></div>
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I close them again</div>
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">"What have I become?" I think to myself</span><div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0976563); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(191, 107, 82, 0.496094); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Noteworthy; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
"You became what you were aiming for right from the start" I hear the voice saying</div>
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<br /></div>
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I open my eyes </div>
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It's darker still</div>
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But it's a different kind of darkness</div>
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One I can smell, touch and taste</div>
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Darkness I can feel, entering through each and every pore of my skin</div>
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Filling me up </div>
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Engulfing me</div>
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Soon enough, my insides are one with my surrounding </div>
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My skin grows thinner </div>
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Until it ceases to exist</div>
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<br /></div>
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I think to myself "what have I become?"</div>
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I crave for the voice that once left me petrified to answer me back</div>
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I silently scream begging to be heard</div>
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<br /></div>
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But my question although has left my mind</div>
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Never made it to my lips</div>
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And I lay there fighting with my own demons </div>
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Alone</div>
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In the darkness that I have become</div>
angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-87536106761216590122012-09-24T18:03:00.001+03:002012-09-24T18:08:59.665+03:00In a parallel existence I still exist<br />
<div>
Although I have become odorless<br />
<div>
The same night my detached shadow deserted me</div>
<div>
I strolled and strolled endlessly </div>
</div>
<div>
But I was going in circles ... And the shadow was nowhere to be seen</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I still exist</div>
<div>
Although I have become expressionless </div>
<div>
My lips sealed with a needle and a thread</div>
<div>
My fingers glued to an invisible wall </div>
<div>
My brains, once scrambled, now dry</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I still exist </div>
<div>
Although I have become colorless</div>
<div>
And the dead skin around my extremities is pealing off on its own. Slowly. </div>
<div>
Even my skin has chosen to split with me</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As I stand here and decay</div>
<div>
I know that in your memory</div>
<div>
I still exist</div>
angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-13839749311766221002012-08-12T11:47:00.000+03:002012-08-12T11:47:22.613+03:00The weight of your void*<span style="color: #a64d79;">I search for your warmth </span><br />
<span style="color: #a64d79;">Between the arms of strangers </span><br />
<span style="color: #a64d79;">I look for you everywhere I go </span><br />
<span style="color: #a64d79;">I crave the rush of adrenaline I get </span><br />
<span style="color: #a64d79;">When I picture your ghost </span><br />
<span style="color: #a64d79;">Strolling down empty streets </span><br />
<span style="color: #a64d79;">I chase it </span><br />
<span style="color: #a64d79;">The closest I get to it </span><br />
<span style="color: #a64d79;">The more your face fades away </span><br />
<span style="color: #a64d79;">Until I find myself facing nothingness </span><br />
<span style="color: #a64d79;">Then, I turn my back and walk away </span><br />
<span style="color: #a64d79;">Thinking about the weight of your void
</span>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-9360353810582246692012-07-28T12:28:00.000+03:002012-07-28T12:28:39.969+03:00I am not there yet.Scattered racing thoughts
Like scattered papers on my desk
Roam between the fragments
Of my scrambled brains
Reality set off on a sprint
I just saw her standing around the corner
A couple of days ago
What incited this spur?
Why the rush?
Reality is endless
Immortal
Why did she feel the urge to knock on my door right now?
Why is she pulling my feet back down?
Reality, give me a break
I will come back to you unhurriedly
When my dream fades away …angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-76784277998843169862012-05-14T19:03:00.001+03:002012-05-14T19:03:32.840+03:00Morning inspiration*In the depth of your stare
I drift
Then I shrink
And disappear
Into the pores of your skin
I fly up to your brains
Scrambled little brains
I scrutinize
Fascinated, I tremble
And disappear again
I wake up in my own bed
On my own
With your scent lingering in my nostrils
And your shadows in my head
And in my spirit, a hole
Growing deeper… like my longing to youangel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-57342188726256656602012-04-01T22:30:00.001+03:002012-04-01T22:30:40.194+03:00My brainworm*<span >You are a walking novel<br />Or maybe a piece of poetry<br />Created by the gods<br />Just before the mind was able to give birth to an idea<br /><br />You are a fairytale<br />That no one could decipher its ending<br /><br />You are a rare piece of art<br />I was holding in my palms<br />That transformed from static to the living<br />When I whispered to it ‘you’re beautiful’<br /><br />You are a concept in my mind<br />A complex bouquet of nerves<br />Clutching together in most strange of ways<br /><br />A brainworm<br /><br />Once developed into a butterfly<br />Will fly away and set my mind free<br /><br />Till that day comes<br />In my head, good vibes you breed </span>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-2656764887816919062012-03-16T11:33:00.003+02:002012-03-16T11:36:23.915+02:00A point in time.<span >On our little island<br />We disconnect<br />And time stands still<br />As our spirits become one<br /><br />On our little island<br />We drift<br />And nothing seems to matter<br />Anymore<br /><br />People come to life<br />Others go<br />Seasons change<br />But all remains the same<br /><br />Untouched<br />Unchanged<br />On that little island<br />Our no man's land </span>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-81772306996975556672012-03-16T11:32:00.000+02:002012-03-16T11:33:00.577+02:00Green*<span >Focus<br />Is one thing I lack<br />Ever since I colored the sun green<br /><br />The grass turned yellow<br />The caves went all red<br /><br />You stepped on the back of my neck<br />And made your way<br />Right into my head<br /><br />Since then you are stuck<br />Since then I am stuck<br />In my own thoughts and fantasies<br /><br />Even when you disappear<br />The sun remains green<br /><br />See painting with a mind is irrevocable </span>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-59726403059575245132012-02-16T13:58:00.001+02:002012-02-16T14:02:31.382+02:00A vision of the kitchen floor.<span >Let me run my fingers on your back<br />And carve my nails into your skin<br />Let me caress you, hold your breath<br />The trip is long<br />No rush, no rush<br />Let me tiptoe on the kitchen floor<br />Where you lie naked and drained<br />Even desire has left you<br />Let alone fame<br />Let me carve my nails deeper<br />Till drops of your blood appear<br />On pink clots formed on your skin<br />Your drops of blood taste like fresh apples<br />Maturing under sunlit summer trees<br />Your drops of blood<br />Running on the edge of your lips<br />So inviting, so inviting<br />Let me caress you, hold your breath<br />The trip is long<br />Too long<br />Too long </span>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-90291544710148808702012-02-14T23:23:00.000+02:002012-02-14T23:24:42.469+02:00Sandstorm from within*<span >It is snowing sand today<br />Small golden flickers<br />Sparkling up with every sunray<br />That doesn’t reach the ground<br /><br />Sand flickers absorb sunrays<br />Creating a new substance<br />That has an existence of its own<br /><br />They are a contradiction<br />To everything natural<br />To everything real<br /><br />It is snowing sand today<br />And the emotions in my head<br />Sparkling up with every sunray<br />That doesn’t reach my soul<br /><br />Sand flickers absorb sunrays<br />Leaving my soul obscure and hollow<br />With an existence of its own<br /><br />I am a contradiction<br />To everything real<br />To everything natural<br /><br />It is snowing sand today<br /><br />And I am no longer there. </span>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-67217944366522122072012-02-02T21:03:00.001+02:002012-02-02T21:03:52.326+02:00(tran)scent*<span >I sent you a morning kiss<br /><br />And evening has come<br />Without a trace of you<br />Or few pale traces …<br />Remaining in my mind<br />From a time spent high<br />On the scent of dawn<br />And that of your skin<br /><br />I inhaled<br /><br />And the scent was carved inside me<br />And the scent transformed<br />Into colorful threads<br />That keep lingering inside my mind<br />Way after our bodies split<br />The scent transcended<br />From thin air, it materialized<br />And became part of me<br /><br />Inside, I can still feel you</span>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-45751949090587228772012-01-31T18:29:00.002+02:002012-01-31T18:30:36.756+02:00On a present past.<span >There is a tiny noise in my head<br />It is coming from a long way<br /><br />It is dead.<br /><br />It is a collection of recollections<br />Bits and pieces of a past<br />Assembled in one spot in my mind<br /><br />Bits and pieces of a present past<br />That have not spend enough time in my brain<br />To allow for their fermentation<br />And fragmentation into memories<br /><br />Shall they become memories,<br />I would be able to visualize them<br />Draw pictures of an altered past<br />That puts on a new dress, in my head<br /><br />Shall they become memories,<br />They would become part of me<br />They would experience the present<br />And get nostalgic and make me cry<br /><br />But they are not memories<br /><br />They are just a noise<br /><br />A tiny noise<br /><br />Tomorrow, it will go away</span>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-79977709430295968292012-01-29T16:58:00.006+02:002012-01-29T17:18:33.604+02:00On feelings...unwanted.<div style="text-align: left;"><span ><span>Nothing good will come out of me</span> </span></div><div><span><span><span >Until I am able to throw out<br />All the feelings I have inside<br /><br />I want to see them coming out of my mouth<br />A rainbow of colors<br />I want to see them splashing on the floor under me<br />I want to be able to step on them and walk away<br /><br />I want them to evaporate under the desert’s hot sun<br />I want them to sink into the sponge-like sand below<br /><br />I just want them to disappear<br />With no evidence whatsoever that they even existed<br /><br />Loneliness does all sorts of things to the brain<br />Wicked images are normalized<br />Sick thoughts become only natural<br /><br />Anything to fill in the hole inside<br />Just anything could do<br />Even the sight of a stranger’s smile<br />Warming up … Seconds before it dies<br /><br />Loneliness does all sorts of things to the brain</span> </span><br /></span><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJ8h9IYkuidekWB-4QmAE-PyzOA33iD2XvNu0V4IiesIfkISCP9nfQg2_7cNJZU8K0so-o8tcY0IdenWG1FJai06PWMeE3nfxTZSCkaHJk3CGIURs60nN0Pl9_-54VxNcxrjN0AoEJjw/s1600/IMG_4404.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJ8h9IYkuidekWB-4QmAE-PyzOA33iD2XvNu0V4IiesIfkISCP9nfQg2_7cNJZU8K0so-o8tcY0IdenWG1FJai06PWMeE3nfxTZSCkaHJk3CGIURs60nN0Pl9_-54VxNcxrjN0AoEJjw/s320/IMG_4404.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703071578111561042" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvi60GSBVobanDuwtCqqp3wqp466Q23bmW4AiuC2E9xnF290NKBwdN_g7DcUNYZkxxdBI9wHwY4L3FFg-jd0fZmNCNELlNHSpYwBh2zIDu2P7PMNDcja-nPPr-uIp3URNWZ3VtzS0rEyA/s1600/IMG_4403.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvi60GSBVobanDuwtCqqp3wqp466Q23bmW4AiuC2E9xnF290NKBwdN_g7DcUNYZkxxdBI9wHwY4L3FFg-jd0fZmNCNELlNHSpYwBh2zIDu2P7PMNDcja-nPPr-uIp3URNWZ3VtzS0rEyA/s320/IMG_4403.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703070925140561106" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXxdPPSCrzehslImtGbvWAdM0R91Bu8jXOTf7phdewEpd8sohxVnLidhwljy4ctcXlR3MvIXi152PpIy5u095sbwVMW52JLRnHQiPop9vaH0aFwTt6z5nK9jrEHRHBfP2x-RxEweB6es/s1600/IMG_4402.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXxdPPSCrzehslImtGbvWAdM0R91Bu8jXOTf7phdewEpd8sohxVnLidhwljy4ctcXlR3MvIXi152PpIy5u095sbwVMW52JLRnHQiPop9vaH0aFwTt6z5nK9jrEHRHBfP2x-RxEweB6es/s320/IMG_4402.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703070926053241970" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px; " /></a></span><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"></div></div>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-25296275266409037032012-01-27T20:57:00.003+02:002012-01-27T21:16:19.371+02:00Dismantled reflections_on Mauritania*<div style="text-align: left;"><span >On this land </span></div><div><span >Time has no value<br />Everything moves slowly<br />Even the grains of sand<br />Transported by the wind<br />From one dune to another<br /><br />On this land<br />Dreams are weird<br />And they get weirder by the day<br />Dreams of mattresses, empty rooms<br />And fictitious characters<br />Coming to life, slowly<br /><br />On this land<br />Misery creeps out slowly<br />To embrace you with its dark shadow<br />You cannot avoid the vibes of misery<br />But you can look at it from behind a lens<br />Everything looks beautiful behind a lens.</span><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2jWeTn4fwFrZBhBpOCUA4F5t9PFKyjZBU1Kplbl20YLWA95qcNjlcLL-PnEfCVFjZm2egt2vTBeT6sXrmXG3V2f8fmCozw3xUh7Kd3A_cTRX1BzeOL6CUiMkFgXjToF5NgrJEFG35eMw/s1600/IMG_4429.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2jWeTn4fwFrZBhBpOCUA4F5t9PFKyjZBU1Kplbl20YLWA95qcNjlcLL-PnEfCVFjZm2egt2vTBeT6sXrmXG3V2f8fmCozw3xUh7Kd3A_cTRX1BzeOL6CUiMkFgXjToF5NgrJEFG35eMw/s320/IMG_4429.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702390811220854258" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKHUH69vqaOsOjEDEc2gU2hjWcrK5NXNJUuOFl4oYS0njHjNHmoe6eT1aGT_uiTvGwJnSeCoYZiSbzUppEKp9oF5CgHBng7_ABlg_AQj5m-3gGpkTi9aktz_5-6-jfWApclDN0MsW1V14/s1600/IMG_4427.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKHUH69vqaOsOjEDEc2gU2hjWcrK5NXNJUuOFl4oYS0njHjNHmoe6eT1aGT_uiTvGwJnSeCoYZiSbzUppEKp9oF5CgHBng7_ABlg_AQj5m-3gGpkTi9aktz_5-6-jfWApclDN0MsW1V14/s320/IMG_4427.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702390803074369634" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxdLNN5UOnhQKCEoXpd5yo2Viovqg-bNTXHxXvisB6KDYA9O-DRKSdRhyPtkUtZao2wPlkg14eJsA6LLs7GNrJTdM1P41-IoIiqsw4JfYPAdnoqMkYQK6To9mhjWp66Nul3JPpvhQqbb8/s1600/IMG_4423.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxdLNN5UOnhQKCEoXpd5yo2Viovqg-bNTXHxXvisB6KDYA9O-DRKSdRhyPtkUtZao2wPlkg14eJsA6LLs7GNrJTdM1P41-IoIiqsw4JfYPAdnoqMkYQK6To9mhjWp66Nul3JPpvhQqbb8/s320/IMG_4423.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702390786572780066" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfsgXLvkDad3dvpK5H5pwPXim8pwgq6ZZvOLWY-88Ht5V-F1qZ9SNMzmiCkcRfFA6ev6Y9wHpgU_abO3X3keLf80Xn0quwC_Fbx-tF3irJSbhYPJ2dxOsaPMDGL9IZDmXvD4N0wwHkV7Y/s1600/IMG_4379.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfsgXLvkDad3dvpK5H5pwPXim8pwgq6ZZvOLWY-88Ht5V-F1qZ9SNMzmiCkcRfFA6ev6Y9wHpgU_abO3X3keLf80Xn0quwC_Fbx-tF3irJSbhYPJ2dxOsaPMDGL9IZDmXvD4N0wwHkV7Y/s320/IMG_4379.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702390756624998274" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha1tqumFO6McIGFOsL8nl0oK8SOCoieCXOg7CXcbwLjDNEFBOcaW3Zfp9M4Td3ecjuUoa9EUIJqI6aUGzfuD4Nf8goj0diUL4IurMkaFt32mBqJdH2saIaQ0w9dQ3_fRFQ92rA4viFA1o/s1600/IMG_4397.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha1tqumFO6McIGFOsL8nl0oK8SOCoieCXOg7CXcbwLjDNEFBOcaW3Zfp9M4Td3ecjuUoa9EUIJqI6aUGzfuD4Nf8goj0diUL4IurMkaFt32mBqJdH2saIaQ0w9dQ3_fRFQ92rA4viFA1o/s320/IMG_4397.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702390782664234930" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px; " /></a><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVLWHtiLZXOblmZd-Al7mh5x-IZTdmVoIgHVErqPdLO_7dQUADEbIGDMM6jH6XCMlYW7IKSgkOn1Hu9pMoxh6x0IrofsyH1grGAHckrOSSCHqtYFOqY2H716qHo84AWW8g6mfOhyclFE/s1600/IMG_4407.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVLWHtiLZXOblmZd-Al7mh5x-IZTdmVoIgHVErqPdLO_7dQUADEbIGDMM6jH6XCMlYW7IKSgkOn1Hu9pMoxh6x0IrofsyH1grGAHckrOSSCHqtYFOqY2H716qHo84AWW8g6mfOhyclFE/s320/IMG_4407.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702392224350114050" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgStQTlJTe0Mn1X5W92vG-k2Jxr-z164NVxxRtrvCUeqcud9fHmshZJ57j6B1eRPEuaUOblmPDEQ_ymUm_liNe3qyPLgzOQqdJWzDvX7PMk-vH5Ef8nrT4CLqgiXk2LqlGHKxAn60P7_08/s1600/IMG_4399.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgStQTlJTe0Mn1X5W92vG-k2Jxr-z164NVxxRtrvCUeqcud9fHmshZJ57j6B1eRPEuaUOblmPDEQ_ymUm_liNe3qyPLgzOQqdJWzDvX7PMk-vH5Ef8nrT4CLqgiXk2LqlGHKxAn60P7_08/s320/IMG_4399.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702392206483573394" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuQ116E4r7kMZPhM_-bAKjlRXta5WqIOPiemldNeX7A6JYZWHQ7ZdoM_sUdJYYOivImcTV2DkFcXbyI-d48dfgeEiDkl27cC0NwZ0PJaL7q_XvHqtdo3bL47J8uP5X8LCdN3OLQqNOKJo/s1600/IMG_4396.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuQ116E4r7kMZPhM_-bAKjlRXta5WqIOPiemldNeX7A6JYZWHQ7ZdoM_sUdJYYOivImcTV2DkFcXbyI-d48dfgeEiDkl27cC0NwZ0PJaL7q_XvHqtdo3bL47J8uP5X8LCdN3OLQqNOKJo/s320/IMG_4396.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702392204229440770" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px; " /></a><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"></div><div><br /></div></div></div>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-57908700594742490162012-01-19T00:57:00.001+02:002012-01-19T00:57:51.153+02:00Life happens.<span >One night you are here<br />In the middle of it all<br />The buzz<br />The night<br /><br />The night life<br /><br />The light<br />The crowds<br />Adrenaline<br /><br />Rush<br /><br />Ecstasy<br /><br />The excessive flow<br />Of feelings<br />Rushing<br />Pushing down your throat<br /><br />One night you are here<br />In life<br />In the midst of it<br /><br />The crowds suffocate you<br />Life suffocates you<br />With its excesses and magnitude<br /><br />And<br />Then<br />Just <br />Stillness<br /><br />And you wonder<br />Whether it is the ability to breathe<br />That dictates<br />A life </span>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-91217560458865171192011-12-18T13:58:00.004+02:002011-12-18T14:05:59.837+02:00A matter of perspective<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZaV0vx7zQPjzfqW7zCq0B392K5yS_E1w8uIzFirPsKXGEXT7FBAsLrKsBV4ddqKZv5IhQU5B4bfSMl34RDrlPq0pc8Da9np5kk6km6Zr-sTsVWxciB4brcWg0YOQI39MhoO04glowho/s1600/DSC00153.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZaV0vx7zQPjzfqW7zCq0B392K5yS_E1w8uIzFirPsKXGEXT7FBAsLrKsBV4ddqKZv5IhQU5B4bfSMl34RDrlPq0pc8Da9np5kk6km6Zr-sTsVWxciB4brcWg0YOQI39MhoO04glowho/s320/DSC00153.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687437760022676338" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNeREIn2N6etSjq0P4wBHZSBM4rUzltXiZKPAnjEPJ-B0n3381G2A9xjv9BHmAlTocDMbucQJ1O1R07fJ8iJ629NHVobbsuGgdYQDfjXcDeNLyhla8wQXdZEl_KJ_UgWXDdE0mJHruLnk/s1600/DSC00155.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNeREIn2N6etSjq0P4wBHZSBM4rUzltXiZKPAnjEPJ-B0n3381G2A9xjv9BHmAlTocDMbucQJ1O1R07fJ8iJ629NHVobbsuGgdYQDfjXcDeNLyhla8wQXdZEl_KJ_UgWXDdE0mJHruLnk/s320/DSC00155.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687437765448950466" border="0" /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">Bangkok skies, Dec 2011</span><br /></a></div>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-73216742901545204432011-12-16T20:05:00.003+02:002011-12-16T20:13:45.018+02:00Fixation on memory making*<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">As we obsess about making memories<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">We forget about living the moment</span> <span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"><br /><br />We see significantly important instants of our lives</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">Through lenses of smart phones and photo cams<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">We watch life passing by<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">We want to eternalize fragments of our mortal lives</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">We want to show them off, as a proof of their existence</span> <span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"><br />As a proof of our existence</span> <br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">As we obsess about making memories</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">Our present becomes past</span> <span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"><br /><br />Moment after moment, years pass by</span> <span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"><br />As we reflect back and remember </span> <span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"><br />There is a sadness that grows inside</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">A sadness, not caused by a nostalgia to time that flew by</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">But to a time spent un-lived </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggtiiTqs2PgEDxTv_TDH28R5Qd6Yv8FmmXMlFb_N_Vm2pzTmal7FUkO8Om1lahOIvoRw-K6ilRvKmc70Zw80w4MjQSYSBSZlxw29OpSZqdwPWEBXGJpHVCVfu-k7vx_-M2QbchqFnO3U4/s1600/DSC00246.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggtiiTqs2PgEDxTv_TDH28R5Qd6Yv8FmmXMlFb_N_Vm2pzTmal7FUkO8Om1lahOIvoRw-K6ilRvKmc70Zw80w4MjQSYSBSZlxw29OpSZqdwPWEBXGJpHVCVfu-k7vx_-M2QbchqFnO3U4/s320/DSC00246.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686790063589746434" border="0" /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);">Bangkok sky, December 2011</span><br /></a></div>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-90245691958328917622011-11-21T14:30:00.000+02:002011-11-21T14:31:44.771+02:00On a clear perplexity<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">You do not have to be here</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">When the lack of your presence</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">Is not equivalent to your absence </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">You do not have to make promises </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">When every word your lips utter</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">Is an eternal promise carved on my eternal soul</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">You do not have to make up excuses</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">When you know that I can see through you </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">And that with a smile I embrace all your lies</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">You do not have to even speak to me</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">When your silence speaks much louder than your words</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">And way straighter to my heart </span>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-27565915418070888222011-11-21T00:25:00.002+02:002011-11-21T00:34:56.650+02:00'intimacy affair'<span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);">A new concept that refers to the new trend of effective and efficient relationships for independent working women. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);">It is an affair - hence the secrecy. Even if it wasn't a complete secret; it is not as if women will walk around talking about it. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);">It is not love - hence not a 'love affair'</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);">It is more than just sex </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);">It is 'intimacy' </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);">It is seeking moments of intimacy - when one can get personal with the other ... sharing their private natures with no strings attached. It is being able to be one's self in such small moments in time. It is this indescribable closeness that comes at the right dose to ease off everything else going on in the world. That small particular degree of disconnection that leaves you feeling as if there is nothing more you could ask for. Just, intimacy. </span>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-82902918331101775682011-11-14T23:25:00.000+02:002011-11-14T23:26:48.474+02:00Random existential ramblingHer: I need higher ceilings<br />Him: are you mixing your pills again?<br />Her: did it end?<br />Him: how could it end since it never started?<br />Her: I thought I saw a red balloon behind that cloud<br />Him: it was a fish flying. Stop hallucinating.<br />Her: I saw you holding it. The thread was long<br />Him: I was holding a toothpick between my fingers<br />Her: Saturn is getting closer<br />Him: it's not Saturn. It is a red balloon. And you are holding it<br />Her: so it did start<br />Him: shut up. I like you better when you're a fish<br />Her: the fish doesn't think. The fish is mute. Expressionless<br />Him: Saturn is getting closer<br />Her: I must swim awayangel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-50167712646365142962011-11-12T17:12:00.001+02:002011-11-12T17:14:27.146+02:00RandomHer: "I need higher ceilings"<br />Him: "Did you mix your pills again?"angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-15953891602459995162011-11-09T15:27:00.001+02:002011-11-09T15:29:01.722+02:00Habits*<span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">I am a creature of habit</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">And I move in circles around you</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">I will admit there's a pattern</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">One I created myself</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">None of my lovers dared leave me</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">I grew impatient and stale</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Didn't look back once I'd left them</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Cause I always expected to fail</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">But this time it's different</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">The rules don't apply</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">But I need some distance to step out of line</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">So grant me this wish and meet me back here in a year</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">If we still exist, I can let go of my fear</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Fear of normalcy</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Fear of the solid walls of our future and let go of my past</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">I must be crazy to want this</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Cause you are the girl of my dreams</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">But I'm prone to ruin the good things</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Cautious 'round balance it seems</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255); font-style: italic;">*Lyrics of Maria Mena song - Habits</span>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-63078268159389420292011-10-31T16:08:00.001+02:002011-10-31T16:08:42.548+02:00Inside out_<span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">A </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Gruesome </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Noise</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Comes </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">From </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Outside</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">And </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">My</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Ears</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Twinge </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">A </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Killing </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Twinge </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Comes</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">From</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Within</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Sharp, sharp</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Pain </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">And </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">In the midst </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Of it all</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">I </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Don’t </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Know </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Which </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Hurts </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">More </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">The </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Unwanted </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Contact</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">With </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">The </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Outside </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">World</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Or </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">My </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Own </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Succumbing </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Inner self</span>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7845964191766891808.post-50955464676456146752011-10-24T16:35:00.000+03:002011-10-24T16:37:44.489+03:00In my parallel reality*<span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Today is one of those days</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">When I feel the urge</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">To dig a hole</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Under my desk </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Slip into it</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">And slide downward</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Into a parallel reality </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Where it rains fireflies </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">And snows colorful feathers</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">A parallel reality </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">The existence of which</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Is bound to the walls </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Of my own mind </span>angel of lusthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00159792824053168397noreply@blogger.com0