You ever think about what we do on a daily basis.  How much of it is informed by what we see presented as normal.  For instance,  on television,  hugs between men always end with a pat on the back.  The only time you see a full hug is when the man is breaking down,  when the scenario is that he is emotionally overwhelmed.  Is it that this is a case of TV portraying society or is it something else.  Speaking visually,  it is advantageous to have a way to signify emotional turmoil in a way other than crying.  So is it that the hug variations come from a need to show visually what is essentially internal,  or is it a reflection of society.  And if it is a reflection,  which is the original image. 

Promises broken, promises kept

The pose of impropriety.
The blush giving to knowing smile.
The faint green scent of dying flowers
laying like dew over musk.
A joyous bark of laughter covering
the faint slap of leather to skin,
Eyes a darkness, full of promises
Languid, languishing
Passing by unnoticed.
Pierced like a blade,
Flechette drawing gasps.
A turned head,
Lips, full of knowledge,
For the taking


I guess I should know better than to throw my heart in like that. But a promise broken is a betrayal. There are trespasses I will forgive but not that. Which she knew going in. At least I won’t see her every day, avoid the gatherings for a while. Until her face blurs down, until a moan is just a moan and not hers. The heart mends quickly when the wounds allowed to close.


My mind gets caught up in wierd details.
Generally with people I’m interested in. Sometimes it is something they wear, or how they do their hair. Sometimes a word they misproniunce or the way they see. I say it’s odd because this bit can push me either way. Into loathing or into fascination. A woman in a man’s shirt and tie or anyone with a goth sensibility,. It doesn’t cause me to fall in love or lust, it just makes me pay attention. All images rushing past my eyes, but some lodge deeply. Lips shaded the color of a deep red rose seen in the dying light of sunset. Just something I find odd.


Something I think often, is a simple statement.  something bound up in all kinds of thoughts and ideas.

I say/think: “All realities are one”.

Sometimes I mean that this reality is a part of a continuum of realities in a many worlds idea of quantum behavior.  Sometimes I mean that forces moving seemingly unseen are as much a part of the world as This building or that car is. 

Today,  I mean it in this way:
All Realities are one.  Our lives running in singular paths etching their way lightly or deeply on the pattern of the world. We seen our lives as singular, as the following of one thing after another.  But the real, the truth, is that each piece moves in both its own accord and at the behest of outside forces. Each of our realities impact each other reality, sharply or dully, but the effect is there.
We, none of us, are alone. We isolate ourselves and make castles for our psyches, create units and set them apart, but really they are simply knots in the greater tapestry. Seeing the whole picture can be difficult.  And we often only see a small piece but it is worth the effort.  Looking inward isn’t always the best path to seeing yourself.  The confluence that you sit in the middle of is more telling if you understand where the originating waves come from.