The constipated mind of the human anatomy. Yes I draw, yes I write, but isn't it obvious from my intellectual outlook? Can't you tell from the dark mysterious, yet fascinating aura that floats around me? Is it really that hard? There is a constant question that hovers in my mind... my soul, in the deep dark abyss of thought--why don't WE think the same? To compare such a person like me to a person like 'you' or 'them' who doesn't understand my train of thought or if you do we could in fact level with each other. Why do people constantly stay in tact to this stupid hypocritical choice of a world? Why do people have the perspective of a mouse when they have the brain the size of a cat? Why is it people find me so complicated, when knowing to myself that I am just me. I am twisted, contempt, emotional, angry, mesmerizing... but all in my own way, I promise I'm normal... we're just DIFFERENT.
People always ask the same question when it persists to my art talent--"Did you draw that?" with a surprised look on their face, I reply sincerely and bored with an agonizing sigh and the nod of a head to say 'Yes.' They look at the picture--jaw-dropped and then walk away. Is it not a mutual idea that if it is MY sketchbook and I have a pencil in MY hand, drawing on a well worn piece of paper that your first thought... NO it couldn't possibly be that you think I drew it! Stay on that thought! Say it! But then your thought passes and you obviously ask me another idiotic question...I sigh and nod once again.
Pay attention, listen to me, hear my voice in your ears as I narrate this passage...
Her golden eyes stared down at the sleeping boy's bare back. Lifting her hand to his back, her fingers danced playfully along his tan covered spine, down towards the small of his back, and over the soft skin that covered his buttox. Smiling to herself she reached for the sheet at his thighs and pulled it over him gently. She lay down on her side and cuddled next to him falling into a deep trance of sleep, forever waiting for him to awaken.
Did you hear it? Did you see what I said? Did you imagine it? We're you too there with them? Do you understand me yet? Even the slightest bit? Tell me before its too late, make me smile before you disappoint me, let me know that we CAN level... Compliment me, not so I can be satisfied but so I can see that you see the real me. Tell me something I want to hear, you're watching me closely I've written two pages, you WANT to see what I've written and that will drag at you, it will wonder in the back of your mind "what is she writing...?" or "her expressions change with the words!" The movement of my pen is still going... ask me... I know you want to know... ask me before it's too late, I'm almost finished...
Its done, its over, you took too long, my pen is down and clicked closed.
I have a feeling I know you, if not then you remind me of someone I know.
ReplyDeleteI hope you get asked what you really want to be asked. take care. .
Only time shall tell, people refuse to remember what is truly needed.
ReplyDeleteI thank you, farewell friend.
~Raven
This....was....hot....the passage with the dude was outta nowhere tho...[mhmm wat are yu thinkin..] but overall it was good =]
ReplyDeleteLol thankies!!
ReplyDelete~Raven
I Like This:]
ReplyDeleteYur An Amazing Writer
ReplyDeleteThanks a ton!
ReplyDelete~Raven