oscarcat

walking across the anaconda, the gobi, and the sahara i find no dearth of inspiration as great as the silence of nagasita she is the honest rain the compass of the meridians the sinewy songs of the body but she'll deny it all muse, accept yourself and your power hungry souls await you and the freedom of your inspiration.

when i was thirteen and feral david was my only human contact routinely we roamed the illicit night painting our pain on whatever palette we chanced upon from rage to curiosity we roamed the dark this night, i attempted to climb the radio tower of WHEN just west of 144 danforth crescent the fence was no barrier to the ignorant electricity pulsed through my body as i climbed rejecting me from the tower my body convulsing throwing me to ground the anchor of a train whistle called me back to life. the journey from then to now that person to this person slow and dyslectic the train's whistle always bringing me back to who

the soul the heart need rest, just as the body does. go to the garden breathe in your life exhale your pain. leave the lies behind you. existential selfishness will never make your heart happy. pain and heartache remind us that we're human but should never stop us from our journey to love and happiness. seek and find.

seep the color of your eyes to me so i can wash my conscience in their blue-green forgiveness and find your sight lies and thoughts of chaos need to be denied though that is what my mind finds comfort in accept me and I'll denounce myself i know what I'm not and pray you know what i am walk those steps into my frailty turn and decide

dying star goes super nova trying to illuminate an indifferent universe but only succeeds in lighting the path I'm lost on clarity, for one lightning moment finds a home on the canvas of my eye Rorschach's of the truth temp my mind in the after image of the heaven's fury but i only hear, in my soul the dying star say give, give until you burst

wish i may, wish i might, first star i see tonight... wishing, i lived on the bank of the blue Danube wishing, i could ask you to coffee and talk the night to light dowsing, searching for the source of you ah, your cleansing flow eroding away the mystery so I can i feel my soul pulse once more.

black schackles bind my limpness too weak to struggle,resigned but regretful. i'm not the child of jesus i thought i could be. i need the wings of my angel to lift me from the abyss. is she real? or only the panicking hope of a lost, failed soul? I am expecting too much, I accept my hopelessness.

you sucked the venom from my veins making me feel human again, illusion. give me my death back i need the numbness and the novocain. the heat of your heart burns me. and i can only feel the freeze. icy sleep is my mother and i nurse at her icicle breasts.

crush the color from my eyes i will walk the translucent world of a reality that is only a mix of dyes canvased by my mind the inhaled scent of flowers is the only trail i'll travel wandering it untold hours for what i only dream exists home is far and then some but i will find it by finding you love that was and love to come knowing you by the remembered taste of your petals

a heartbeat is an empty echo unless love is listening. arms are always empty unless they hold true love. in the clamor of pounding hearts that fills the world Iris and Peter only hear one another's heart beating the secret song of love. a song of how their separate souls were meant to sleep inside each other and the story of how their tender arms will always encircle the other's heart. a shy smile will play on their lips as the words "I do" are spoken. both knowing that these two words are the true promise, "I have always, and will forever, love only you."