nablopomo: in the words of weezy f. baby

...'i'm an alien'
laymans terms, i'm an artist.
i'm a writer.
i've known i was different since i was a little girl, rocking bubbles and clips. my mind has always operated on a different level than those around me. not saying better, just different, the way i would use and view words, the visuals that words would bring to me, and the way i felt when absent from my one true love. people told me i wasn't normal.

as i got older, and up until recently it hit me, and i understood. people who are in love with their art, who live breathe, and die entangled in their art function in a seperate reality. they don't live like everyone else does, often called 'crazy', some become hermits, some take drugs to numb the pain of their brilliance, some go as far as to take their own life. masterpieces aren't created while 'sittin up in their room', masterpieces are created through glazed eyes, staring blankly out of a window, counting the black stars in their white sky. pictures are painted staring past what the eyes see and dredging up the soul. music is created from places some people may never reach. artists live inside their head, they function off of what makes sense to them, and honestly this reality sucks! when i am expierencing a writer's block i am unable to function, i can't breathe this air, it smells stale to me, i yearn to be in my seperate reality. that's where i feel at home, that's where my world is MY world, and that's where everything makes sense. give me a white sky with black lines woven in between the clouds, give me a hot pink pen and set me free.

i'm not saying i'm brilliant, but i can relate to the love of none other but my art, i'm also saying.....set me free. sometimes i wish this reality would just let go of me. i've been seduced by the death of life...the art of words, and i don't want to come back.

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confessions of a webcam whore: my klutz ass

so, as i made mention before i love webcamming. sexcamming i call it, is soo much fun, not only do i get to see gorgeous cocks getting stroaked by manly hands, i do enjoy returning the favor. currently my sexcamming partners are bus driver and cleveland indian (who has kinda stepped up his game since our last session), but they are not without their own dramas, which makes me rethink the whole dyamn thing (to be discussed at a later post)

however my klutz ass had to screw something up.
on thursday night i was sexcamming with cleveland indian.... a part of the night follows...

"aim down mama, and n let's get started" 1:04 am
"need more lite" <~~~ there occured my fatal mistake
"perfect...sexy knees" <~~~ really?
"looks delicious, i wanna fuck you rite now"
"i buss" 1:19 am
"i see it...wow" <~~~ cum all over a man's hand is strangely sexy for me
"i still wanna fuck, yea, i'm still horny"
"imma shower brb"

"you good?"
"i burned my leggggg...ahhhhhhh!"
in an effort to be the smart ass that i am, when he asked for more light, i took my shadeless lamp off my side table and attempted to put it between my legs, and in the process it not only touched my leg, but it was there for what seemed like HOURS! i swear i heard seering noises.

"u want me to kiss it better?"
"yeah! it fuckin hurts, all cause u wanted to see the pussy"
"luv the kitty though" <~~~ i don't care, my leg is dying!

now i'm limping like a friggin cripple, my mom says "it looks good" really mom?! it looks like i have flesh eating disease! "you've never had a burn before" no, mom, not like THIS!

having to explain my injury to poetry guy wasn't easy "i was being naughty", was all i could muster while smiling not so innocently.

and when i explained it to bus driver he flipped! because i should have known not be sexcamming with anyone else "puhlease".

so, have i learned my lesson? nah. even though i'm in excruciating pain, i'm not even waiting until it heals ;)

.kisses.

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dark dreams and dark desires

i recently saw 'law abiding citizen' starring gerrard butler and jaime fox. and it is an amazing movie. for the blood thirsty chick in me, dismemberment, and bombs does me good. the higher the body count the more i am satisfied. but i think i got too much satisfaction out of it. because when poetry guy and i walked out into the sunshine i said this.

"what he did makes complete sense to me"

and i wasn't even lying. for those of you that have not seen it, and intend to, leave now *spolier alert*. he (gerrard) was so black and white in what he did, and as twisted as it is, i could see his point. when his family was brutally murdered he was wronged by the justice system, and he wanted to teach it a lesson, kill everyone involved with the case. as simple as that. mind you, his point took the lead over his common sense in the end which is why his ass got napalmed, but he had a point nonetheless.

and it got me thinking, could i be as cold blooded as him? my mind is already quite black and white with very little room for the gray, and i pride myself on being able to shut off all feelings when needed to.

i watch a lot of crime drama, gruesome physcological films, and i am obsessed with true crime novels. i have gotten so used to the bloodbath, that i've always had fanstasies of taking a life. not out of anger, or self defense, but simply just to see what it felt like. (can you tell i watch too much tv). the thought of watching someone's life leave their body does not turn me on but it sparks my curiousity.

gerrard's character was always a killing machine, working as a spy killing those that could not be killed, but when his family was murdered, he friggin snapped, and literally shut down the city due to his murderous rampage. he racked up serious bodies. i'm not sure however what it will take me to kill someone.

how far do i need to be pushed? what's my breaking point?

should i even ponder it, especially in my dreams, and dark desires? at night i'm allowed to envision the blood and the fear, but in the light that's clearly not allowed. and that really is a good thing, because i'm not planning on taking a life, and the thought that i may be capable of it scares the shit out of me. why? because i'm the one always postive, always laughing, always willing to help those who need it. i love everyone, even those who are deemed unloveable, and i think no one deserves to have their life taken away by murder. but when the sunsets, and i settle in my bed, my mind wanders........

*i believe being honest, is being honest, even with the ugly, dutty parts of who you are, and this is pondered in all honesty.*

.kisses.

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stay - poem

Eyes glazed over gazes on the ground
The stench of loneliness has overwhelmed
The smell of fear a long time ago.
And the wings of silver tipped butterflies fill the empty pages
with empty dreams, and breathing lies.

Echoes of mocking words invade the privacy of my thoughts
And I scream, but like the tree in the forest no one hears
No one ever hears, because I am in a crowd of one.
Me, myself and ……I am alone.

I contemplate it one more time, as time hangs in the balance,
a selfish end to an unlived life?
I imagine family and friends weeping
Crying to God for the answer
I too have searched for that answer, still searching….
“God?”
I inhale the bittersweet breathe of life

Sparkling diamonds litter the floor
And in amazement I pick one up
Brokenness has never looked so true
Lost in the shattered shards of beauty,

Surrounded by rainbows,
One tear escapes me,
The pain envelopes me,
As the red redemption drains me
I exhale

And in that moment
Hanging between heaven and hell,
One word

Stay.

.kisses.

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