womanly needs

why is it that the tango can only be danced with one person? such a tender and passionate dance and yet it only allows the two people to indulge in it...

Perhaps the old saying is right...twos company and three is a crowd! In my opinion twos a bore and threes fun. Oh isn't lust just addictive?. not love or romance for both these entities are mere pretenses as after all romance is to deceive others. Yet don't let this imply or by any means suggest that i am a woman robbed of the various romances of youth, the romances that one enjoys whilst growing up and gaining wisdom from the not so fair yet highly irresistible opposite sex.

Let me start with number one, oh no, not my first romance, not my first sexual partner but rather introduce my main lover, my adonis, the animated sculpture with whom i satisfy my carnal needs. We have been indulging in such behavior for around a year now. His locks of pure gold and his buttocks of steel, he is perfection when it comes to taking him between silken sheets and ravishing his rather lovely body. He makes me laugh and as of late we have been spending a lot of time together... Last night i allowed myself to spend the night at his (something that i tend not to do, simply for the fact that i prefer my own bed and the fact that i don't want to encourage this to become into anything more serious). I woke up with a creased face and hair matted to the back of my head, oh and very late. Jumping out of bed i quickly made myself a coffee and wanted to let myself out.
'Daarling, come back to bed!" i forgot to mention his preppy accent and his blue eyes, i must say i have always been a bit of a sucker for blue eyes.
"gotta run..will call though!" same vague responses i have been giving him for over a year now, we're supposed to be getting serious, we're close to the 'i love you' mark by his books....and yet he has no idea about number 2. Not that he is in second place...His chocolate skin and the way he moves on the dance floor makes me want him and his genes. I often think that if i wanted children i would like to have them with him, he is athletic and has muscles, his skin is a lovely chocolate color and his eyes an impenetrable black. He's more serious, well about life but not relationships, he always says relationships are a whey to serious a thing to ever talk seriously about...which always makes me smile. He does romantic things often, something which i normally find awful, yet with him i can tolerate it, so flowers and chocolates and underwear and plenty of jewelry and perfume which makes me feel like a woman. When t comes to the bedroom, well can any woman complain about a black man? its definitely something in the rhythm. I don't see number two as often as i would like to, mainly because number one takes a lot of my time and energy and then there is also number three (i know, ever so naughty of me) I tend to keep the number three spot free but as of recent days i have met a rather lovely, younger poet. It is his intelligence which i find alluring, and it must be said what women would not enjoy having a poet by her side and knowing that he could break into a serenade at any time and woo you off your feet. Must be some of the ancient ancestral feelings within me, the classical side of my personality. Mr poetic is very delicate and very intelligent. We spend time together in which my imagination is stimulated almost as much as my sex organs. We sit under trees and take lunch together in expensive yet organic cafes and we chat and we wonder about the world and the economy and the way things are going and how words have changed their meanings and how everyone around us is simply in their own bubble and it is just us who are in touch with reality....All a load of bollocks really, but when we are together it feels right, he feels right and his mind is a perfect match for mine.

Now, is it that wrong to be dating three rather different yet totally brilliant men??

You tell me...i cannot judge myself..

lost souls

As i walk into the cemetery,the original garden of eden, where souls are all equal a peaceful state somes over me. a sensation not of grief as i would have expected but of inner peace. i look upon the gravestones, the people forgotten their names reused, or perhaps simply figures registered time ago. i stop at my destination and look at the poem engraved on the white marble gravestone in black ink. Recently i haven't been able to sleep. i didn't know him well but he haunts my insomniac nights. the picture of him walking into his room and gulping down greedily his last self prescribed medicine. him taking his last breath and letting the warm sensation that sleeping pills give you take over his body. him lying down and his final thoughts of knowing that his torture on earth will finish shortly. deep in his sleep oblivious to pain, selfish and lonely sleeping eternally. It's windy outside and rain patters on his grave stone. It is running through my hair, cold drops of water, its the right scene, the right situation for me to be by his grave. i don't feel grief i just feel happy that im alive and nature is still with me. i can feel the wind on my hair, the cold on my face and the fresh breaths of air. so many unaswerred questions, why? how? would anything have helped him? As time goes on the pain will fade, his name will be forgotten and one day this gravestone will no longer be visited. A lost soul forgotten, his life uncompleted.

pensive explanations

dear you,

you are never going to fully understand me, you never have and you never will. its a thought that creates a distance between us but we have to be aware of these things and i have to tell you now everything that i feel....

my understanding of love is not what yours is. i understand love to be that which i had with my mother, being a single mum it was stronger than most. i was attached to her, and to my family in general, i guess europeans often are. the first love i experienced was with my best friend, we slept together, i fell for him, i got hurt, it was painful to say the least. i think about him sometimes late at night. love for me is not only sexual, although there is nothing better than waking up in the morning next to the person you love and looking at them and knowing that they love you back. thats what love is for me, and i know that my experiences mounted together year by year have shaped my understanding of love....

yours however is totally different, your relationship with your parents would have played a big part, your childhood and the loves, the people who although have left your life have left their mark, either in their mind or on your body. So when you say 'i love you' i don't understand you, we might feel close together both mentally and corporaly but we are never going to understand each other. I'm color blind..did you know that? i don't see things the way you do, you are never going to see things without colour or colours the way i see them. Don't get me wrong, we can talk and words and expressions, tones and body language might tell us a lot about each other, but we are never going to understand each other. Its humanity you see, were all detahced and distant and although we pretend that were connected we dont really understand each other, my pain can never be the same pain you experience, my freedom is not yours and so forth.

Yet you are the closest thing to me and i feel as if we are one when we think alike and we talk and express each other. it is you who understands me and sometimes words are not even needed, we can feel that we aere in total harmony...

don't throw it around though..that one word holds so much behind it...we don't realize....but then again we are ignorant about a million things, not ignorant, misinformed or not informed at all..

comfort can be brought about with the hope of change but this my darling will never change, we might experience things together but there is so much that we have already lost and so much that we will experience appart. It's a happy thought don't get me wrong...a lovely thought to know that we are individuals in this world and no one is the same..although we have similarities.in beliefs and ideas, in features and in minds, we are never the same.

Anyhow....enough for now..x

merry january

the gray season when diets begin and we return to primate behavior and start harboring. only this time around were not harbouring food but instead money. Funny how the super consumerism that consumes this country is taken back a little after the christmass holiday spirit lifts from the air. I guess i have no explanation for the easter eggs that are out or the valentines' day chocolates. But thats an other matter entirely!

discussions late at night

its after having a cigarette and dialling her number that my thoughts are instantly re-arranged in the order i want them presented. the truth is that i'm going to finally come clean about sleeping with her boyfriend. i am going to tell her everything, and i know she is going to demand that i tell her all the grimy details, and i'm prepared to do that, to tell her everything so i dial her number and wait for her to pick up. things are running through my mind, my imagination has already created several ways in which she may react, and i have come to the conclusion that i can cope with all of them. I just must remeber to act in an adult way and tell her my reasoning behind my behavior.
'Hi, how's it going?" she has picked up and already i feel uncomfortable considering im going to have to be the one who brings up the subjkect of the conversation.
'oh you know, just wasting time. The usual really. How are you?'
'fine. i was about to settle down to do some work, but i'm not in the mood in any way shape or form. how was the party the other night?'
'yeah it was good, i stayed till the early hours of the morning, got a cab home then spent the rest of sunday attempting to do work. By attempting i mean that i ate the entire contents of my cupboard and watched sunday television which is absolutley abominal'
'oh i actually quite enjoy it. The only reason i dont watch it more often is because its such a time waster, and i just dont seem to have the time to waste anymore. It's annoying the way that has happened isn't it?'
'YES, very. i hardly hae time for myself, let alone old friends.'
'i agree one hundred percent. at least it wont last much longer, after i finish this year it will be over. university will be done with and i will enter a fast paced world of reality. I just cannot wait. anyway did you want to discuss what the plans are for friday? i have a lot of work to do and cant chat, plus Charles is coming over and i want to surprise him tonight.'
'how are things with charles?' Finally i had my cue, i could tell her now, start crying and begin confessing, tell her how sorry i am that i slept with him, how it wasn't my fault (well not entirely true) and how i was prepared to do everything to make up. He was a stupid fool anyhow and she could do better. Sureley this would make her see it clearly.
'things are going well. very well actually. we had such a wonderful night last night, i really feel that we're opening up again, and you know how i got suspicious a while. Well i think he is actually being honest with me now, which is so refreshing. i don't know if i could hvae managed him if his behaiour hadn't changed, but the old charles is back. i'm thinking of initing him out with us, do you think the rest of them will mind?'
'i don't know...' oh no, that was a bad start, it's always bad to let them introduce the subject. i'm going to have to drop the subject. 'anyway look i have to go, i will ring you later. take care.' so i put the phone down. perhaps its better if i keep it to myself that i slept with her boyfriend. It's for her own god anyway.x

addicted

an obsession with her drives me,
this obsession makes me live,
this wakes me up each morning
although suffering i weep
and the pain weighs more than words
and the want is always there,
although time is passing by
it's her that i constantly seek.
she is there throughout my dreams
moments when i sit and sigh
and the world is constantly changing
no one ever asking why.
simplicity no longer simple
but difficult to maintain,
as thoughts are jumbbled
by memories that evaporate
discussions that allude
to things gone by-gone
dissapeared into the darkness
that is the void whole that is my mind.
My addiction asks for her,
seeks her everywhere in sight,
seeks comforts in her scent
reconstructs her touch, her feel
and the way i felt.
the want is great, the mind is weak,
and yet upon arrival it is not her i want to meet
it is the memory of her, lost, created, forgotten.
An obsession, forgotten.
It's the feeling i seek.
and this may be meek
but a full confession
it wasn't her i loved-it was the addiction.
It is me i want back.
it is me that is lost.
evaporated like a memory, or a stain in the water.

temporary colorblindness

the inneitablity of rain always somehow manages to produce gray emotions. Boredom, a lack of light, a permanent downpour and the coldness that envelops london. Somehow the sadness of the surroundings manages to transport itself into the many habitants of the city....this however is not the case in my instance. The permanent lack of colour within november has provoked a colourblindness and an acuteness of the senses which creates a simplistic view of the surroundings. Innevitable questions transport themselves within me as i travel, and it is mostly during the daily commute that i find myself thinking oer matters such as these. The perception of colour may vary from indiidual to individual. what i have been taught is green may in fact be blue to someone elses eyes, however both me and the someone else are totally unaware of our perceptions of the colour green in this instance and how they differ, if indeed they differ for both of us. Colourblindness therefore removes the difficulty implimented by the different perceptions that we both have of a certain colour. Yet awareness of a certain colour is only due to the education that we hae receied, because society has told us that the colour is called green.....therefore innevitably society has achieved in telling us what to see, what to perceive.

Yet appreciation of a colour can never be taught. And the freedom of individuality is trully expressed, although unconsciously, through our eyes. If what we see is trully different than to what the next person sees then that marks as as individuals and the freedom to do that can never be taken away. Unless ofcourse colourblindness falls upon us, in which case complete colourblindness is the removal of individuality. A simplistic view of the world and our surroundings, everything permanently viewed as an antique photograph. Does simplictiy aid in the understanding of the world, or does it only simplify a complex situation to a black and white view?

I am filled with thoughts regarding colour. Such a beautiful concept yet so untangible, so untouchable it makes it hard to understand how it exists. Existance and life are other subjects that fascinate me.

Life otherwise has been filled with excitement. The remopval of one coloured substance from my daily existance, namely heroin, has improved my perception. My moods are not swinging anymore in a permanent wind that is life. i have come to the realisation that i have become a thinker. My thoughts no longer feel frozen, they can roam and roam in my head, be censored and manipulated, moulded and changed by perception and renewal of ideas. It is new experiences, and it feels like my existance is something more than simply an existance, i am living again! As cringe as the concept sounds, it is ultimatley true.

Oer and out for today....