Happy sadness

I love you
and I love you, but what if that isnt enough?

They lay there, while the stars effortlessly pin wheeled across the sky. Lying in each others arms too tired to care, to thoughtful to forget. Desperate for the courage to change something, to face a future that might not be so planned out, that might not be so storybook. Days went by, turned into weeks. Problems bobbed to the surface, only to be driven under by a wave of longing, an all too human need to run from lonely nights. From days spent staring out the window, trapped inside themselves.

She left him that night; she walked out into the rain with her sling bag and her high heels. Always the combination of familiar style and elegant perfection. She walked away slowly, exploring her heart as she left the man she loves. He caught up with her that night. 3 blocks down the road. He came, half naked, heart racing, bare feet slapping the pavement. He did not let her go that night. And she was grateful. Forever these two lovers would play out their game, forever trapped in the gravity of their own relationship.

Is it destiny? No. destiny has no business in their lives. It is the soft scrape of shoes being picked up, the ripple of a dress being donned. That unmistakable sound her lips make when she blows a kiss into the air, and the silence left in a room with one less beating heart sheltered inside.

Today I was told I think too much. Why.

Cumulative lack

Some thinking steps:

1>'Every woman is a whore, every guy has his day'

12>'The cock, a get out of slut-label free card' and 

123>'Gender equality is a bullshit story' 

123>'Racial traits do exist'

123>'You cannot love everyone you meet'

12>'A framework of values and rules built on top of animal instincts'

123>'Even with religion the same base remains'

1234>'Real experience questions rules'

12345>'Real question seeking answer'

12345>'Must be fully exposed'

12345>'Open to interpretation' and 

12345>'Well endowed'

12345>'Call 0800 ???? ?? for more questioning'

123>'Instincts exist for a reason, maybe the collective selfishness of the herd'

1234>'You could be acting selfish towards yourself and not even know it'

1>We define ourselves using others

12>'True freedom of behaviour cannot exist in the presence of self awareness'

123>'True freedom cannot be experienced without self awareness'

1234>'True freedom should stay the hell away from reality'

12>'We pretend to see ourselves through others' eyes'

Dating works like running a tab from a really friendly barman. As long as you keep going, ordering more and more, things will seem grand and happy. The second you stop ordering you realise how much your tab has grown, incidentally being the inverse of how small your dick feels at that second.

Thus - Guys fight hard for long term relationships, because the second that barman calls last round the gates of hell start beckoning.

Lying to yourself never solves much, but neither does admitting you are doing so. Admittance is not half the battle, people who believe this are simply blinded by the eventual success which roughly translated from admittance. In actual fact it is more like stacking one lie on top of another. I have admitted to a million problems, mistakes, logical screw ups and plain down shitty thought processes. This has brought me no battle scars, no horns calling for the hunt, no soft and swift feet speeding off into the dark over a cliff.

Wow it is hard not to simply diary a weekend of ups and downs and down downs.

corners of the mind

"and you cant, always get, what you want"

I would slip my hand around your slender throat and with a firm grip shove you backwards into the wall. A second later, while the impact is still making you reel, my lips close upon yours. My arm circles your waist from the left and forcefully pulls you into me. Once I feel your hips willingly digging into mine I let go. I slide my hands up your legs, taking hold I lift you into the wall.

Hungrily kissing, you bite, drawing blood. You drop and spin around, and again I pin you against the wall.You will feel me as I search your dress for escape. Kissing your arm. Biting your shoulder. Hearing your moan. You arch your back; we kiss across your shoulder as my grip on your hips grows stronger.

When you turn back to me, a moment to simply look back into those hazels. A hand to slowly caress your cheek; drift softly into your hair, and drawing you closer to meet my lips. I will pick you up, and carry you backwards in your mind.

These memories, these, fairytales, still collect in the corners of my mind.

google google on the wall

Am I in love? 

Ever since I was a small four-eyed critter jumping around playgrounds I've had this appreciation for feelings. The way emotions could trump evidence, logic, believe or even sanity.

In high school I wanted to know how it felt to be in a relationship, how those guys and girls were feeling every day, knowing there was someone on the other side of the fence who was also thinking about them. Nearing the end of my high school career I actively started looking for someone who I could experience this with. I had no idea what I was getting into. 

She was smoking hot and a little shy, but buoyed by the music and the dance floor I would only realise this later.

 I arrived on the doorstep of this year freshly ripped from warmth. I've spent time thawing out, but now I seem to have lost the edge of how it felt. 

Never mind true loves, ignoring forever promises, throw out the window destiny; just, when has it ever been easy to know if like has turned to love? And how incredibly hard is it in our time to really tell the difference, where every semi female form is covered in napkins flapping in the breeze.

Am I irrational? Do you lie awake thinking? Can we be found every other day dancing in our minds?

Smoker lung

Light up. Take a see-through plastic container, any old thing around the house. Find yourself a willing participant to this charade and proceed to cover said participant with the container. 

By this time you will need to light up again. Take that first breath of fresh air, so lovingly filtered for you, and let it slip in under the door of your participant’s new home. Keep going till the plastic loses its translucence.

Now if you could zoom in, past the plastic, past the ash particles floating around, right down there at the bottom you will find a little place I like to call home. Yes, it's that time of the year again. Time for nothing in this little bubble to change. Time for the leaves to stay the same colour and the birds to fly around in circles.

Every day I race my tractor through these streets it dawns on me that I'm functioning inside the western upper-middle class version of a Middle Eastern electronics store in the states. Read that again.

We dream so big that we verge on never waking up.

Hi Stellenbosch, Flipi doesn't hate you.