Such an unusual feeling
oh I'm sookie tonight
longing for a snuggle
in your warm embrace
sleeping so softly
until you wake me
with a kiss just
just on that bit
of my tender skin
the curve of my neck
waiting for another
kicking my hormones
into a higher gear
rolling over into you
i smile into your lips
touching your face
beautiful angel

Author's Notes/Comments: 

unfinished, ugh, first draft

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Sloth is a gift, not a vice.

With sleep's sweet opiate it will

To the tired, the wandering entice,

And you will be in bliss for however long

You choose to listen to its lullaby-song.

It is not a matter of must when you give into sleep,

After all, what you find in your dreams

Is the only thing you can keep.

So why not sleep?  Why not slumber and float away?

With sleep comes the illusion of night-

Welcome respite from the day.

Is there not merit in peaceful repose

Over all the strain and agony

That your waking life will propose?

Sleep is a charm to chase away pain,

A safeguard against burn-out,

Cleansing as a summer rain,

And how much better will things turn out

If one more hour of sleep I gain!

The world doesn't need me, so why am I here?

My ineffect on this planet

Causes less harm than it would appear.

At least when I'm sleeping, I can make no mistake;

The only error on my part

Is not being awake.

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Submersible Lies

How deep does a submarine dive?

Its powerful propellers cut like knife

Sailors count precisely one to five

Underneath the waters of solid life!

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To whom it may concern, Epicurus is not dead

I keep on seeking a better feeling,

One to get me through the day,

And once that one becomes less appealing,

Then I'll find a new one with which to play.

Life can be about work and reputation,

Taking things as they come along,

Or it can be a celebration

Of freedom of choice,

And an end to right and wrong.

Perhaps it would be more worthwhile

If I found a way to contribute more,

But whether I reconsider how well-spent is my time

All depends on what, int the end I'm working for.

For fun I'll work for free,

For passion, any fee-

Cheap carousing is fine by me.

To alleviate my stress,

To infuse the hour with happiness

Or a little tension that could spark a fire,

Only that would be an exception

To the leisure from which I'll never tire.

Hedonism is a must,

It is free for all or bust

And more pleasure than is just;

What else could get you higher?

But though I want some bons temps

And to feel my senses reeling all around,

All the bliss known in the world

Might not in successive experience be found.

I need much more than that which is

Fair in love and war.

In both the aforementioned

Is a cause we're fighting for,

Though worthless it may be,

When all else fails, it is good enough for me.

In both the aforementioned

Exists a concept deserving of attention,

A reconnaissance of opposite spheres of the souls,

An understanding of our shared tolls,

And the price we pay with every best intention

When we choose to take on complementing roles.

Not to know, neither to see nor hear,

But just to be

And relish in each moment's time,

The gift of each step instead of how far I climb,

And whether I can look back and say

What is work without knowing how to play.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My ode to Epicureanism, how settling for less can be settling for more, for when I am tired of stale intellectualism and presumptuous philosophy.

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A Calling

In the hidden, broken places therein reside

Those whom society has cast aside.

Overlooked, a festering wound forms gangrene.

Instead of healing the hurt,

We swath it in our own soiled rags

So that the ugliness remains unseen.

Money is not enough to pay the medical expense.

We need to desert our manicured lawns

For the sake of helping those who suffer

On the other side of the fence.

An ointment applied with most gentle of care

Not to prove anything for one's own advance.

Life cannot by luxury itself repair,

Only by a humble servant's burdened stance

And a healing balm infused with love we tend.

How can life let these beautiful souls

Tarnish from our refusal of a hand to extend?

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Sharpened Sleep

In a deep state of depression.

The feelings wittled you to the bone,

sharpen to a sense far higher

than buddhists achieve with enlightenment.

This sharpening takes a deep toll.

No longer take rest when you lay down at night.

You close my eyes to wake but seconds later.

No rest shall ever come.

Never anight of sleep since sharpening.

Only way to find sleep in life again...

Inflict a great deal of physical harm upon me,

subsequently causing me to lay unconscious for hours on end. So please do harm me give me some release.

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Satanic Serenades

Satanic Serenades

The following is a theatre of nightmares, designed to manifest the darkside of the psyche. A phantasmagoric psychodrama effectively utilizing the fears & superstitions of mankind to their extremes. In other words, reflecting the horror from darkened mirrors. In short, a technique I call Shadowmancy, which preserves the necessary mystique needed for enchantment & psychodrama. These Satanic Serenades are written in the spirit of Milton's Paradise Lost, & can serve as Unholy Psalms for The Children of Darkness. And, it's just plain dark fun, that I believe every Satanist, & otherwise darkly-inclined individual, would enjoy.

Take heed: By & by, words such as "evil" are taken in a purely theatrical sense, & besides the lyricks of "Hail Satan", these dark rhymes are not necessarily intended to reflect actual Satanic philosophy as outlined by The Church of Satan. Satanic Serenades are purely for entertainment purposes

The show is about to begin. Come in & take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. Suspend disbelief, and brace yourself for the unexpected...

In Nomine Satanas,

Draconis Blackthorne

Warlock, Church of Satan.

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So, So Casual Boredom


I got in trouble today

By acting on my own

Fault and faction

Because I acted a little hazed

Effect runs its course

Don't mind the lack of consistency

Nothing was supposed to be,

really at all significant

So, so there I was

It was awkward as I stood

Nobody took notice

And I went on my way

A room nearby where I gave a greeting

And everything...

Seems as if it fell the right way

Atleast for circumstances today.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

First time I've been yelled at since version 2.0

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There’s a sort of a tickle,

The size of a nickel,

A bit like the prickle,

Of sweet-sour pickle;

It’s a quivery shiver,

The shape of a sliver,

Like eels in a river;

A kind of a wiggle,

That starts as a jiggle,

And joggles it’s way to a tease,

Which I can’t suppress,

Any longer, I guess,

So pardon me, Please,

While I sneeze.

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