prose

Chewing My Lip Over You

I'm chewing my lower lip all to hell tonight.  I think, over you, but I could be mistaken.  Hopelessly, unwisely, romantically looking for something to call a muse.  What the fuck?  Why don't I get with the times, buy out Old Navy, get me a riceburner and some phat rims, and get with the times?  You don't want me worshipping you like some lowly dog with bloody knees.  Searching your iris for some ultimate truth, inspiration, do it myself goddammit.  I refuse to believe that I am truly alone;;utterly and definitely alone.  I am infinitely surrounded by you, yet I am only vaguely aware thus far.  How can I open my eyes?  I sense you are not far, yet I continue to taste blood on my lip.  I try to kick the habit, let this lip be in all its glorious seduction.  Aggrandization, I need more of that.  It's no fun propping yourself up all the time, for me, I wish to believe in a companion. . .



on my arm. . .



in my bed. . .



in my HEAD. . . .



just for a time, if not for time immemorial.  I would teach, and eagerly learn.  Christ how I would!  Eternally grateful, shining, sparkling my sly grin. . . always.  Then I'd stop chewing my lip over you, like a fool.

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Human Understanding?

Life is life.  It is what it is.  You get out of it what you put in, right?  I think this is true.  At times the energy isn't even there, the body is heavy, it feels ill, it needs darkness.  I've felt this sensation quite a bit, it is easy to recognize when it happens.  I nap or smoke too much at times like this.  But sometimes I feel an itch, a nagging that tells me I'm missing out on something.  I try not to contemplate what I'm missing out on, because we all are absent somewhere.  Nobody can be everywhere at once, unless you're some sort of spiritual egomaniac.  Spiritual egomaniac.  That's an oxymoron, isn't it?  The ego is personality, "self".  It perpetuates all individualistics characteristics.  We have our likes and dislikes, our maybes and definitely nots.  This is the ego, and its only concern is making sure you get what you want.  I really doesn't know what the body or self NEEDS.  In fact, I think it confuses the two all the time.  Desire is need, as far as the ego is concerned.  So where does the spirit figure into this?  A good part of the soul is channeled through the ego parts of the brain, which makes the soul so dificult to define.  In fact, forget about defining the soul, that's pretty much a repeating endless circle of questions and half-truths.  A serpent eating itself for eternity.  The difficulty is actually being able to tap into the soul, to even be vaguely aware that it is there.  There are many ways to reach it, drugs, sex, meditation, that's not really my focus here.  There are a number of viable ways, which no one can really teach to another.  It needs to be a personal process of experimentation, accompanied by perhaps a deconstruction of accepted thoughts and morals within the self

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Chains of No Control

Folder: 
Reflection

The day and night are the same for me

Time has disappeared in the background

Its life which is running at the speed of light

And I am unable to escape from the whirlpool which is drawing me in

There is no way to liberate myself from the chains of no control



Oh! Its life running at the speed of light

And I am still caught in the whirlpool

Going round and round

The swirl is bottomless

It has no end

My hands are bound by my thoughts and perceptions

My illusions and my experiences

The reality and fiction



Oh! Life is running away at the speed of light

And my struggle is not over

The end is far or is it near?

I am encompassed by the fear of not having lived



Stop! Stop the clock

The hands have to stop

The motion has to stop

Freedom is what I seek

Freedom is what I wish for

The satisfaction to live a life

Which is beyond the chains of No Control.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Its kind of abstract...
Had felt too many external influences in my life at the time I had penned it

View meghna1609's Full Portfolio
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Non-comprehession

I sit by the window
I look outside
Searching for answers to my woes of why
The answers never appear
They never show the path
Life is confusing.
A perpetual game
My advice flows down the drain
the help slides by and 

Nothing seems right
I just don't understand
I want to know the things
I just can't comprehend

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a prose
It is mainly confusion

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needs both to tick

I'm saving tickets money,



for someone sweet.



Who shall be my honey?



Nobody can predict.



Whoever, needs both to tick.

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Thick Head

Coming from a restless sleep



Moving to an endless beat



Trying to feel the day



Hoping to find the way



Sunday morning on the way



Clouded thoughts appear and say



Things they did say yesterday



You can go out and play



If you get away today

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A Circle

The soul whispers to itself,

hoping for an answer from it knows not where.

Can truth be hidden so well?

Is it a test, a game,

or is it needless?

Are passions merely for experiencing?

Is existance a fleeting glimpse of light,

or is there a purpose to be found?

The mind can be smothered,

but can passions be extinguished?

Will it end in death,

or reflect itself?

And then....  Indifference.

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Evil or Not?

To make a joke happily,speaking in jest,or explaining the hidden secrets of within? Or is the expression a hidden ambition to gain respect or recognition. Or to explain the terms on which the boundries of your conciousness expand to or stop at? To make a joke or strike a blow, all the defenses of the joke are up. the time is right. Shoot the arrow and hit the mark.The prey may not even feel the wound till the critical time has passed. Or maybe the archer doesn't even comprehend where the arrow came from. Could a realization of lust take place or will the incident stoke the flame to higher heat? Heating the furnace to do an even bigger job or shoot a larger beast of prey? Or poison the tip of the arrow for more potency and less pain for the victim? All because of the defences of the joke.  

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Push---Pull

Two lovers with no one to love

We met on the by ways of life

Bustling activities of motion

This way and that

I could see your interest from the start

We danced that game of who goes first

What did she say?

Our paths crossed in different directions

How can we put this together and make it right?

Let's just pull over to the side of the road

Lets just talk this over

Maybe we can think of a reason

To do what feels right.

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