Taking you.... intravenously.

Without every ounce of excellence.....any inapt idea capable of suffering.. it is you, only you... that I desire, feel, remorse, understand, and leave unforgivably. So unsubtle I regain every ounce of your compassionate capability. You're unstable, in denial, and incapable of ever feeling for another human being. Lost without the truth, that unbearable creep that I, undoubtedly reveal as my favorite destiny.

Athea Armstrong-Wilson

Give me a place to stand and I will move the world.

Hate is not a powerful word for it has, but 4 letters.

I hate the way you pheen, the way that you acquire, and the way that you are so damn predetermined to exceed that when you falter... you submerge inside yourself. I feel pity for you and ashamed that your actions are, but familiar to your favorite scenario. I hate the way you leave me feeling lost, empty, unacquainted, feeble, and barely breathing. I lose every bit of dignity when I see your flesh and I forgive, but not one ounce of your credibility. Not only will you one day lose everyone ounce of your own glory, but you miss will wrinkle and fade. I hate that shadow, how it casts itself and how you prance gracefully around mortality. No my darling you will not live forever, nor will you be granted everything that you feel this world owes you. I hate the way you labeled yourself as endangered. I hate forever, your "god", and every ounce of breath that is granted to self reign.

Beautiful Disaster

It took every ounce of my being to hold tight, remember how, and determine which factor was going to weigh in the most.

Today I find myself toying with the idea that I really do need to remind myself to inhale, exhale, inhale, and exhale....... open my eyes and provide a statue of endless, remarkable, and provided strength.

How do I explain my situation to ones self. In which area of memory do I taste first. From what sort of ignorance to I reside within.

Someone please explain to my feet that they are now in dire need to support not only my structure, but my mortality, my heart, and my existence which has now become one hell of a beautiful disaster.

Intergalactic immortality.

Find me my kindness, and I will leave it feeling feeble.

Detour my liking of his own majesty, and I will falter at my own supreme being.

Include my substance for gratuity and rationality, and I will leave you speechless and without reason to fail.

Without reason... I am left enabled.

Without sin, to be without sin, I find myself unable to resist limited activity. My addiction has only began to create a more feeble Resistance against itself. I am at a loss and am featuring myself inapt. Why am I all to often left feeling immortal, without ability, and last dreamt. My turmoil is finding a necessary drive to create such an immaculate persona of myself, within his being and all of his entirety.

Inapt and unclean.

It wasn't that I was searching for the correct words to say in all of his entirety. I knew exactly what I wanted to shout, what I wanted to pronounce, and what I wanted him to feel. Something, anything, as long as he could feel a massive blow right to his steel chest. At that very moment I could feel my blood begin to thicken, my toes begin to tingle, and my breath begin to stagger. He is my drug and I am severely suffering a disgusting addiction. For once in my life I feel completely and uncontrollably unannounced, undesirable, inapt, and unclean. I lay defeated for my existence feels to worn now. Finding my stance in stability is tricky when he forces himself into my reflections. I faint at my own anxiety, I provoke every idea that I could become undeniably devoted to that one notion. The notion to keep, to embark, and to hang onto.
I leave to his benefit a bit of doubt that I can contain my hostility. I am angry, determined, compassionate, tactful, and unable to humble myself at ones own flaws. In all of my sight he needs to walk if he is not strong enough, fast enough, and able to show me his greatness.

Left feeling foreign.

And there they were, but two little feet that remained strong enough to hold this body in all of its entirety. Just 90 degrees above them, a mirror, a repetitive image that sort of resemble myself, however this time I had found myself at faints fall. Behind my eyelids I could see the smoke begin to roll out beneath itself as the chemicals inside of my brain began to boil. Now trailing Covergirl, tears.... and without them... I would hesitate his lisp.
I lost my shade of excellence, the glow, the pearl essence that determines just exactly how I am feeling, thinking, dreaming, wanting, and longing for one persuasive conversation.
I have lost myself and every ounce of integrity that used to once reside inside of me. I found myself worn out, blistered, and weary. I can only remember reaching behind the mirror for what I found was a note... reminding me to refill.... like my script, I am vacant and left feeling foreign.
Gathering every ounce of strength my shallow breaths allow, I am again face to face with myself. My semi-permanent now a smear, I inhale so soundly that beneath me I can feel the devil begin to panic. I can not surrender, I can not break, nor will I provide a doubtless amazement for their sketch. Echoing now, the sound of a great pair of high heel black patent leather mary janes. And like every Aquarius.... my steps are patiently counted.