tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18905268394730701482024-03-13T15:51:43.566-07:00Unleashing the Poet WithinAn aesthetic poet, nurtured in oneness. Destined to be hatched, not by the warmth of love, but by the life which eludes him. Curiosity of strangeness, playfully meddling his own self-flamboyance; inquisitively pondering the unknown spectrum outside his shell. Much to be said and much to be heard, but if they can not understand your silence, they can never understand your words.anabolismisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05646504080612296590noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1890526839473070148.post-50735544396915840862011-09-13T22:29:00.000-07:002011-09-13T22:39:12.279-07:00Her Whispered Yearning<div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OOt_9LKI0ZA/TnA8jArDPtI/AAAAAAAAASE/t02l6XtlngM/s1600/job-search-secrets.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 187px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 141px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652084104523628242" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OOt_9LKI0ZA/TnA8jArDPtI/AAAAAAAAASE/t02l6XtlngM/s320/job-search-secrets.jpg" /></a> Secretly shadowed beneath the heart of a tendered hush. Gazing the empty indifference of an unsatisfied longing. Sworn in secrectcy, whispers, and dead silence. Caressing the unrepairable wounds which fed off the forsaking heart. Abandonment, desertion, and exposure are neither options nor recommendations. Only allowed to play in the dark depths of her secret shadows and tingled hushes.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q3Wk77ynwls/TnA9HP1BmQI/AAAAAAAAASM/HYcoszOkcwg/s1600/imagesCAZ03A1G.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 222px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652084727067285762" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q3Wk77ynwls/TnA9HP1BmQI/AAAAAAAAASM/HYcoszOkcwg/s320/imagesCAZ03A1G.jpg" /></a>Monogamy, polyamory, and infidelity trading places, spontaneously demanding environmental stimuli. An inquisitive thirst to scratch the surface of an emotional appetite and sexual cravings. An ideal planting ideals for growth of sensual delectation. Pleasing her whispered yearning for Eros. </div>anabolismisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05646504080612296590noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1890526839473070148.post-67081953627001789262011-06-08T23:53:00.001-07:002011-06-08T23:57:00.409-07:00Resentment<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MRHgJ0MEQ1U/TfBuLo3n2FI/AAAAAAAAAR8/bAEiSAz0Z0g/s1600/resentment.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 256px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 234px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616109881559341138" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MRHgJ0MEQ1U/TfBuLo3n2FI/AAAAAAAAAR8/bAEiSAz0Z0g/s320/resentment.jpg" /></a>Poisoned by bitterness and grievance. Anger aroused by exasperation. Fueled by aggravation and annoyance. A deadly passion scratching impurity til blood and suffocating it's innocence. Outrage, scornfulness teasing contempt. Disgrace, disobedience, and disrespect taunting their Elders. A battled cry mocking a sparkled vision. Provoking immorality with a demonized laughter. Screaming for the birth of vice. Degrading honorable conduct to wicked infeasibility. Resentment patiently awaiting our ignorance and snobbishness to fulfill it's hunger to feast.anabolismisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05646504080612296590noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1890526839473070148.post-1986793851658365852011-05-28T18:37:00.000-07:002011-05-28T22:07:33.233-07:00Dating Our Self-Image<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DZEsch3TFY0/TeGkASXC1CI/AAAAAAAAARw/_LlyLE9aPEo/s1600/beauty_in_the_eye_of_beholder_by_ninjaahedgehog-d2xzx4v.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 133px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611946935515796514" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DZEsch3TFY0/TeGkASXC1CI/AAAAAAAAARw/_LlyLE9aPEo/s320/beauty_in_the_eye_of_beholder_by_ninjaahedgehog-d2xzx4v.jpg" /></a>Let's not date a mere reflection of ourselves, in which, wounds us deeply. Instead, let's date the opposing perception of ourselves, in which, prosperous growth awaits. Dating the one who guides you down a righteous path, we can not follow alone. Fulfulling our emptiness, kissing our pain, and curing our pride. Destined beyond oneness and fortitude. Lusting for more than superficiality and selfishness. Feeling greatly appreciated for being no more than who we are.anabolismisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05646504080612296590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1890526839473070148.post-285000738866476742010-11-15T21:34:00.000-08:002011-06-09T00:02:06.865-07:00A Peripheral Thugthezzo’s Respect<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TOIYVycB0KI/AAAAAAAAAQI/9-vyXaw3Bso/s1600/imagesCA5UT278.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 187px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 270px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540017254214783138" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TOIYVycB0KI/AAAAAAAAAQI/9-vyXaw3Bso/s320/imagesCA5UT278.jpg" /></a>A deep rotted thuggish mentality. A swag of disobedience and incivility. A gangsta morality. A quite desperation of acknowledgment, and a loud grind of shady originality. A kill or be killed mind set; get rich or die tryin’ attitude. A lack of misunderstanding. A lack of misjudgment. A careless crude of honor. Doing is simply understanding. Only one unwritten rule of peripheral thugthezzo... <strong>Give respect or take it!</strong><br /><br /><em>“Aye dog, pass dat shit here cuz! El pinche puto es un vato loco! Nah nikka, it ain’t like dat!”</em><br /><br />Diverse tongues of slang. Communicated on streets of hustle, grind, and paper. Or better yet, communicated on civilizations of poverty, crime, and survival. The by-product of a faulty liberal system. Carl Jung’s theory of analytical psychology, seen in the streets of humanity. Gangs, drugs, and corrupted organizations hammering weakness in a so-called civilized society.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TOIYeIIkJkI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/FQng0r7l_6E/s1600/respect_take_it.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 269px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 224px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540017397477680706" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TOIYeIIkJkI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/FQng0r7l_6E/s320/respect_take_it.jpg" /></a>Children admiring their peers, their familia. Young vatos, crips, bloods, taggers, and bangers, simplifying a principle of monkey see, monkey do. Trying to survive in a system which is designed to fail. A system tainting immorality. A system built on frustration. Laws, rules, and regulations mean nothing in the words of peripheral thugthezzo. Criminal rehabilitation is a bad joke. Justice is injustice. Laws are ridiculous banter. Corruption trying to control corruption.<br /><br />In such a system is disrespect. A Peripheral Thug’s number one rule broken. And... when there is no respect given... Respect will be taken.anabolismisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05646504080612296590noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1890526839473070148.post-83168882824724525322010-11-01T21:41:00.001-07:002010-11-01T21:59:59.459-07:00Self-Reflection<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TM-Ws_7V5oI/AAAAAAAAAQA/NPOuE0s_o8I/s1600/4176960870_f13ab5a869_z.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 283px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534808166880372354" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TM-Ws_7V5oI/AAAAAAAAAQA/NPOuE0s_o8I/s320/4176960870_f13ab5a869_z.jpg" /></a>Can the mirror lie? Yes? No? Maybe so?<br /><br />Stare for a minute, what do you see? I guarantee, what you feel, is what you’ll see.<br /><br />The mirror reflects the mind. The mind, can be so blind.<br /><br />The mirror can never extol... beauty within the soul.anabolismisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05646504080612296590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1890526839473070148.post-20804324877241965072010-11-01T16:20:00.000-07:002010-11-01T20:21:55.545-07:00Beautiful Poisonous Flowers<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TM9L3WuCH5I/AAAAAAAAAPw/bQeb5NfjRMA/s1600/%25D1%2583%25D1%2588%25D0%25BA%25D0%25B0-Jessica-Alba-celebrity-nude-good-kos-mmx-beanit-beauty-blumen-beautifuls-women-wagy-my-fav-romantic-SEXY-WITH-FLOWERS_large.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 258px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 203px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534725881425174418" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TM9L3WuCH5I/AAAAAAAAAPw/bQeb5NfjRMA/s320/%25D1%2583%25D1%2588%25D0%25BA%25D0%25B0-Jessica-Alba-celebrity-nude-good-kos-mmx-beanit-beauty-blumen-beautifuls-women-wagy-my-fav-romantic-SEXY-WITH-FLOWERS_large.jpg" /></a>Their luring nature, enticing your attention. Their colors attracting you, tempting you. Curvatures of a Goddess. Their scent stimulating arousal. Lost in their aroma. Lost under their spell. Your senses are hazy. Logic is thrown to the wind. Your soul floats, a wondrous path.<br /><br />Sexy seducing flowers. Vines pulsing with a poisonous nectar. Roots caressing the soil beneath. Petals awaiting to be brushed. Such a work of art. Such a master piece. Whispering over to you... “smell me, touch me, love me.”<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TM9MFSLOseI/AAAAAAAAAP4/T5iG17U27O8/s1600/-nice-woman-Eterna4ui2-General-greetings-Smukke-kvinder-beautifuls-PMac18-ArtPretty-Women-flowers-Judy-angels-faces-women-sensual-Good-Morning_large.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 253px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 194px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534726120723624418" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TM9MFSLOseI/AAAAAAAAAP4/T5iG17U27O8/s320/-nice-woman-Eterna4ui2-General-greetings-Smukke-kvinder-beautifuls-PMac18-ArtPretty-Women-flowers-Judy-angels-faces-women-sensual-Good-Morning_large.jpg" /></a>Persuasive signals. Persuasive callings. Persuasive vibes. Patiently alluring. Patiently preying. Patiently teasing. Scenting you. Feeling you. Wanting you. Needing you.<br /><br />Victimizing dangerous powers for beautiful poisonous flowers.anabolismisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05646504080612296590noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1890526839473070148.post-24062720283401468792010-10-30T14:21:00.000-07:002010-10-30T22:37:44.763-07:00Kissing Lips<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TMyN5uYrApI/AAAAAAAAAOI/C4J7ov2jh7Y/s1600/4498122.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 203px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 233px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533954064975069842" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TMyN5uYrApI/AAAAAAAAAOI/C4J7ov2jh7Y/s320/4498122.jpg" /></a>Gazing into a pucker of red passion. Lips entwined, overlapping one another, lost in intense cupidity. No right nor wrong exchange or commitment. Only caught in a moment of overwhelming desire. Chemically reacted to create a new universe, a new dimensional world forming.<br /><br />Rather the kiss is eloquent, soft, or sweet. Rather the kiss is dynamic, hard, or passionate. Rather the kiss brings your life joy, or another’s misery. The kiss is powerful beyond measure. Great jubilation. Great exasperation. A form of expression. A form of love. A form vengeance. A form of wonder.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TMyOR_51rGI/AAAAAAAAAOY/QYKNeBIJrhY/s1600/Angel-mib-2-Jims-Sexys-erotic-col-lesbian-aver-girls-nite-tomi-wow-Lip-women-on-women-Girl-Lock-suseQ-only-for-lesbian-Hintergr%25C3%25BCnde-cosas_large.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 169px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533954481994443874" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TMyOR_51rGI/AAAAAAAAAOY/QYKNeBIJrhY/s320/Angel-mib-2-Jims-Sexys-erotic-col-lesbian-aver-girls-nite-tomi-wow-Lip-women-on-women-Girl-Lock-suseQ-only-for-lesbian-Hintergr%25C3%25BCnde-cosas_large.jpg" /></a>Body language, voluntarily muscles contracting and retracting in a beautiful rhythm of waves. Mind on <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">ecstasy</span>. Nervous system, calm as can be. Heart rate steadily increasing. Respiratory system on stand-by. If you would only stop to listen, a complete silence is heard. Nothing else matters, but the moment in hand. If you focus your attention on your fingers for a moment, you’ll notice they move in the same rhythmic pattern as your lips.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TMyOfc3QzHI/AAAAAAAAAOg/J7cp-uAO03g/s1600/French_Kiss.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 228px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 179px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533954713106566258" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TMyOfc3QzHI/AAAAAAAAAOg/J7cp-uAO03g/s320/French_Kiss.jpg" /></a>Closing of the eyes, fixes nothing. Closed them. Keep them shut as much as possible. Light of the lips glow through. Soon enough, your entire body dances as one. For a moment in your life, everything makes sense. Everything becomes clear. Everything is evident. Embrace this. Cherish this. Nothing is more tender. A fondled treasure of kissing lips.anabolismisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05646504080612296590noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1890526839473070148.post-80111208464702872032010-10-29T17:26:00.000-07:002010-10-29T17:30:10.075-07:00My Dream World<div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TMtma5yZvgI/AAAAAAAAAOA/CSRRcQUBH4k/s1600/www.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 341px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 274px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533629179529641474" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TMtma5yZvgI/AAAAAAAAAOA/CSRRcQUBH4k/s320/www.bmp" /></a>Where souls are indigenous. Where societies are based on gift-economy. Where we are harmonious with nature instead of conquering it. Where we are not conscious of time instead of being controlled by time. Where we are cooperative instead of competitive. Where we are not economic prostitutes. Where materials and possessions are traded for recognition instead of forms of credit. Where the only debt owed is to God. Where judgment and criticism is positive. Where helplessness and selfishness are words of extinction. Where we are oriented by the moment instead of the future. Where holocaust means destruction of hate, fear, and anger. Where war and violence are defied. Where life is not controlled by codes and standards. Where a person is measured by morality instead of illusion. Where laws and punishment systems are primitive. Where our inventiveness of technology are used for greater principle. Where we are only political toward romanticism. Where education is idolized not by paper. Where resources are methodically abundant. Where anyone can be medically and criminally rehabilitated. Where there is no desire for crime or adultery. Where addiction is generosity and consideration. Where true love decides right from wrong. Where we lust for a women’s heart instead of her features. Where a man can conquer his pride. Where we exploit rainbows and spirals, instead of exploiting false-image, self-gratification, and self-glorification. Where we are not classified by ridiculous shades, sexual preferences, and historical backgrounds. Where famine, scarcity, and poverty are ancient words of mankind. Where careers are a 20th century fad. Where idealism is shared and not patented. Where truth hunches over perception. Where dreams caress reality.</div>anabolismisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05646504080612296590noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1890526839473070148.post-27310470667428017532010-10-29T17:20:00.000-07:002010-10-30T22:35:39.748-07:00The Library<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TMtlYbVbr7I/AAAAAAAAANw/2ADYeAMTCPY/s1600/imagesCAMIAFRC.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 259px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 194px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533628037483704242" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TMtlYbVbr7I/AAAAAAAAANw/2ADYeAMTCPY/s320/imagesCAMIAFRC.jpg" /></a> Standing in the middle of a library. Surrounding by knowledge, wisdom, and inspiration. What to read? What to study? Diverse genres of literature. Teachings of love: The Bible, The <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Qur</span>’an, The Tao Te <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ching</span>, The Four Noble Truths of Buddhism, The Book of Mormon and Metaphysics. Teachings of discrimination: Government Propaganda, Avaricious Societies, and Linear Systems of Consumerism. Teachings of meaning: Existentialism, Nihilism, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Instinctivism</span>, and Darwinism. A perpetual list of conversion.<br /><br />Standing there, brain overloaded with confusion. An ineffable feeling of the unfamiliar. Can’t quite put my finger on it. Something feels wrong. Knowledge does not seem to be knowledge at all. It’s as if, knowledge has been manipulated (or mutated) in favor of whom ever chooses to give it. Nothing feels real, my mind spaces in empty corners of new thought provoking idealism. What should I do? Should I choose something? Should I walk away? Should I question how these thoughts were created? Do people think this way? Is it just me? Is it you?<br /><br />I grow nervously, hands began trembling. I lose sight of who I am, what I am... why I am. My peripheral vision captures photogenic copies of people, yet I can not sense them. Reality tells me they are there, but <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">mentalism</span> swallows reality’s roots. I’m lost, deep in thought. Perception becomes <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">illusionary</span>. Fantasy weaving force. Science seems shattered with a potent thought. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Omnifarious</span> wisdom crushing my pathetic and arrogant knowledge. As if I’m shedding an old shell, moving into another. Strange. Bizarre. Mystifying. Can you feel it?<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TMtlgGQ-PcI/AAAAAAAAAN4/vNnzslHgCz0/s1600/2890854840_1720306148.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 251px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533628169266806210" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TMtlgGQ-PcI/AAAAAAAAAN4/vNnzslHgCz0/s320/2890854840_1720306148.jpg" /></a>Consciousness eases my mind. Checkpoint. I’m back. “What was that?” I asked myself. I don’t know. I walk out the library, questioning why did I walk-in, in the first place. This is not the first time for me. For whatever reason, it’s a continuous pattern of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">recedivious</span> gasps. As if, knowledge itself was trying to tell me something. As I look over my shoulder one last time, I notice the library is not what it seems.anabolismisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05646504080612296590noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1890526839473070148.post-27034464137705222122010-10-13T22:38:00.000-07:002010-10-29T12:00:34.071-07:00Eye's Journey to Tear<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TLdWaBjT6YI/AAAAAAAAAMY/EpY-U9JhJko/s1600/tears4.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 270px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527982072713701762" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TLdWaBjT6YI/AAAAAAAAAMY/EpY-U9JhJko/s320/tears4.jpg" /></a>A numbing feeling, lost in a mystical mist. No hands to wand, to fan, or clear Eye’s sight. An anesthetic dosage of delusion. Sense is nothing more than an Eye. Thoughts begin assimilating thoughts, and there Eye sees.<br /><br />Tears flow, unable to blink. An aching stink of truth eradicating the Eye’s pathetic vision of knowledge, wisdom, and reality. Truth is like non you’ve ever seen. The Eye tears only for what the Eye feels.<br /><br />In the Eye... Creation, evolution, and extinction are juggled in the hands of the Fool. Emotions are a game of marbles. Love and hate are stripes spiraling down the same candy cane. Virtues and vices are a mere window. Impermanence itself is deteriorating. Death intercepts Life, as Life fumbles Death. Everything is imperfectly perfect. The Eye is truth coated with deceit.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TLaX6Qe-TiI/AAAAAAAAAMI/IxkIyffGrzk/s1600/Tear.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 226px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 186px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527772619756949026" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nMt-IQGrpqI/TLaX6Qe-TiI/AAAAAAAAAMI/IxkIyffGrzk/s320/Tear.jpg" /></a>Everything entwines. Light is absent. Blinded by darkness. Pupil dilates. A state of emptiness. A state of perplexity. Awareness taunted by fear. Fear lost by seduction. Seduction desperate for attention. Attention arousing awareness, in an despicable orgy of Eye’s passion.<br /><br />Rather the Eye is tremendously happy or sad, the Eye’s journey is to tear.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p> </p>anabolismisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05646504080612296590noreply@blogger.com1