PasqualiJones

Away Away Never tomorrow Only today Never in the evening Neither in the day Alas, nor in tomorrow But, specifically, the day Ah, as it is Away Away Away.

the moment that you feel like you've fallen into the wind and become part of the blur the everything the collective fade know that you are cared for you are loved the second that you do not feel like the sun kisses your skin, anymore, or that the stars do not shine only for you know that they do regardless of your rather unfortunate misconceptions of yourself they will always be there for you.

I am the lover, denied. I am the dead, resurrected. I am the confined, escaped. I am the optimist, cynical. I am the child, lost. I am the questioning, crucified. I am the metaphor, personified. I am the strong, broken. I am the king, denounced. I am the secret, publicized. I am the solider, doubting. I am the painter, blank. I am the believer, forgotten. I am the wall, crumbled. I am the blood, forever. I am the static, dynamic. I am the silence, screaming. I am the nothingness, surrounding.

I dreamed of you, darling. I dreamed I watched you paint the Universe in watercolours. Your lips shined in the light of your desk lamp, your small grin coated in joy. The wild plains of your hair were shrouded in sensual darkness. I heard your voice while I dreamed, darling. I heard it echo through the caverns of my subconscious. It stroked the nape of my neck with its glorious fingernails. I woke from this dream by my own volition, lovely. My self-awareness took hold of my shoulders and shook violently, allowing me to understand that it was not you I saw, but a figment. I woke from this dream, my darling, for I could not bear to be

Looking into the eyes of stars, I see only dust. Winds of generations past force the grey to blind the cosmos. I stroke the pale cheek of the Sun; my finger tips scratch the cold from it's surface. The sky throbs around the Earth, regret taking shelter in the clouds. Sensations of longing towards an uninhabited forest overtake me. Guilt and second ­thoughts alter my perception of the Universe. The ocean falls into the sea, creating a lapse of judgement in the mind of space. Let me feel you, great emptiness- let me caress your nothingness with my all. Lowly reminders of godliness tire me. Anticipations of summers are short li

I want to feel your lip ring brush against my cheek. I want to evaluate whether it is plastic or metal by first hand experience. I want to take it between my teeth as I softly bite your lower lip. I want you to feel the dryness of my mouth dissipate, as your selflessness and comfortability are given as small, appreciative gifts from your tongue to mine. I want you to understand the non-coherence of your words, as you deeply sigh into my neck, my lips preoccupied with your collarbone. I want you to physically merge with whatever you lay upon, as I slowly administer ecstasy to your ever-radiating skin. I want you to moan in fervid bliss,

Rippling pools of grey shroud the mysterious islands of skin which form your legs. Secrets spill from under the heavy chains which guard your immaturity. Envelop my body with your courtesy. Merge the beautiful flesh of her lower thighs with the incandescent fluorescence of your pale neck. No longer must I hide in abandoned houses of loneliness and ecstasy; I am now able to run my ink-stained finger through the unruly electricity of your hair. Longing to draw vision upon the exposition of your ankles acts as a metaphysical cigarette, love the heroin, the sweet concoction of your eyes mixed with your cheeks, the wine. The effortlessness

Reciprocation of your full affection has not garnered the exact results that I believed it would. Your affirming words of romanticized thought are lacking in expression and emotion alike, recently; I am beginning to doubt the validity of these statements. I know- O, believe me, my darling, I understand; situations such as yours maintain the ability to drain an ocean, let alone one’s spirits. Yet, there rests an unsatisfiable itch at the base of my neck, which insinuates that your dry conversational customs when pertaining to myself and myself alone are but results of confusion, undesired preferences, and maturity of your individual th