i don’t pay attention to the weather forecast
for its broadcast with the same gas I pass from my ass
on a perilous day my awareness grew vast
like dead hands of the past
immeasurable as the ethereal dimension
i can feel its attendance traveling on my skin
directing connection perplexing affection
i can feel the invisible ones watching on
in the shadows of dawn
and when I wake from a slumber grave
and when I lay to sleep off consciousness
i can feel the various factors of providence
i can feel the different ghosts from every consequence of yesterday
i can feel the young man’s murder on Sixth Street
when I heard the gunshots that night
and how I read about his death from a corner away
from where it happened with lack of astonishment
and yes, he may be gone in a physical sense
but he’s not forgotten
i can smell the hot blood of the junkie
the authorities in blue left on my doorstep
and I’ve never felt so powerless;
veracity can be so flowerless
i can feel the edges of supernatural empowerment
aerial contact prose
i can feel the rush of the present
a spiritual meadow under my perceptive nose
a subtle pulse of anything goes
echoes of unapproachable distance
feelings of insurmountable brilliance
i undergo glimpses and experiences of a concluding death
i hope won’t arrive catastrophic
and it makes me cold
there’s a blinding light bulb out in the crossroads
it shines and speaks of all the lives I owe
how time is loan
and I must return to where it’s infinite on each of its matchless codes
revisiting a question mark, a veil I failed to recall
I observed you for hours from Friday night straight into Saturday night.
We were vampires forging the time to our destinies. Breaking rules to exceptions with formidable decisions we made a year in advance but never embarked on. God had us in a bubble of safety and the universe gave way to our paths of delight, pleasure and bonding.
Yet I observed how your hand gestures changed from the beginning of light to dark, a defensive mechanism of instinct and worry between deals, friends and men in wall-street suits positioning themselves on corners like the boys in blue. Or how your crinkly grimace became hood, weathered with slight evil vengeance that became unspoken about, how your aura became vicious, distorted on reactions and careless as if I ceased to exist by your hip, how your walk became street as a globetrotting thug.
I know you as the heartwarming, charismatic personal trainer at work. The reserved man. The one everyone loves to fall in love with, the one who goes out his way to brighten and help other people’s day. Mr. Correct, Calm and Collective. The myriad of mysterious demeanor. Where are you and who was I with tonight?
I’m on the other side of the spectrum, noticing your alcohol intake, reloading on shots, no longer coasting like last weekend. I’m to overextend myself and hold you down, play the obedient role, head above water, which doesn’t copy but folds their hands, a well-trained student to remain sober and eye the spectacle of a grieving sloppy man, boisterous, foolish with fuckery, loud and embarrassing. Who are you? I’m picking up on your hints of onion layers now.
During the months to come I was consumed to have my Dark Knight more than ever because rejection fuels me. The universe fueled me in its spinning axis and I couldn’t find a way to let go. Eventually I decided to embark on a Desire Spell in February on the coming of a new bright moon with hopes and dreams of overcoming this mammoth crush. I rubbed the candle with all my energy, heart and focus. I made love to myself on the floor while menstruating and took the blood and smeared it with our names already inscribed by a knife and chanted my hearts desire over and over again until I felt all was sealed. I ended it off with the most important words: If it’s not meant to be than don’t allow it to ever happen.
In April I thought of Dark Knight, I thought of the desire spell and how it had a year to work. However I transitioned my thinking into more positives and being productive in my waking life all the while burying my emotions for this man. Fast-forward and the summer months zipped by and now I could finally bear to look him in his face without an ounce of feeling washing over me unlike last January when I cried wanting to spend New Year’s with him. Fall was rolling on in quick and just about the same time of year when we spent much time together, the binding circle. By September his attitude changed drastically and he flirted with me in front of others unveiled and freely.
Within long hallways in front of gym members and coworkers he would hug me 3 times in a row, reaching out to grasp my clothing and pull like a kid who whined at mama for attention. This time around his “thanking me’s” were on a rich personal level during my moments of high-intensity cardio and he would randomly text me asking me if I were okay when I posted Facebook statuses of uneasiness or male stalkers. I had tiny wonders about his new stance but knew better than to fall for his hot and coldness. Then one night he kept smiled and looked me deeply in the eyes and said, “I had a dream about you, it was very sensual, and the entire dream had a real big impact on me.”
Once October came about everything changed completely, all the coworkers planned to go to a 5-star restaurant to celebrate the weekend life and when I asked Dark Knight if he was also coming along he stated with his ace of a smile beaming, “If you’re going, I’ll go.” I smiled and once again never took him seriously. But pondered when I got dressed up in an orange floral fitted blouse with a short loose skirt and pointed flats where he stared at me and stood speechless and wanted to say something more but stood on reserve and I in suspense.
In the dim steakhouse restaurant tension was building. Silently I saw my coworkers arguing with the grimaces of whose share the check was as I entertained others while they entertained me. I observed strangers walking by ogling my breasts which sat on the table while I sipped from multiple drinks as Mr. Dark Knight came to sit next to me and came clean about the past and he’s been in denial of his feelings for me for a very long time.
By the time we went to the pizza shop with half the crew we started at the beginning of the night and before the strip club he poured into my eyes with his chocolate almonds profoundly with the talk of if I wanted to get involved without labels while I puffed on a cigarette only to get more of a buzz from his words. I was in total disbelief but said yes.
And in the middle of naked women dancing, crowded room, bass booming, feeding cake, mooning people accidentally with my striped sporty green panty and in between Dark Knight’s clients who wanted to grope my breasts, swiping cards for drinks, drinks and more drinks, engaging in conversations with dirty old men, the best part was holding hands in the back of the cab secretly with Dark Knight away from everyone. The look and smile in his eyes were amazing with a sense of relief.
More barhopping and more drinks later everyone left one by one and it was just me and him vibing, his hand on my thigh, my eyes to the left right and middle of him. We closed down the bars on the blocks and broke night walking the city streets and my drunkenness died. He asked me to spend the night at his house but I knew if I did I would regret it more than if I didn’t. I wanted things to feel right and that didn’t. So on I went home in a cab where he called me and asked me nicely to touch myself while he touched himself. I was so nervous I couldn’t bring myself to an orgasm.
The next day when all the sober lit up my world and the disbelief quiet down until mere disappearance the question became, “Could I get truly involved with someone I idolize?”
I’m going to share one of mine with you’s that happens during my free-for-all ovulation mode, which captures my salacious thoughts and uncanny desires.
Before I go on I want to mention, you must at least be eighteen years of age or at the very least be of a responsible mind for the explicit material (if you consider them to be) you’re about to read. Many who follow and read my blog already know I write exactly what’s on my mind or what life experience has brought to my attention and this is based on my biased perception of the world. Without further ado, either click away or enjoy please.
It was a semi-cloudy day off in the busy streets with the New York City breeze sliding its carefree attitude into my straight hair. I strolled to the gym visualizing exactly which two Cardio machines I’m going to split my time on although deep down inside I was low on Cardio inspiration. Fast forward my barcode gets scanned and I thought to look pass the male receptionist where I saw the hunk of a Personal Trainer Rock who I’ve always had a mammoth crush on.
Quickly he jumped out his seat both gentlemanly and nervous walking up to me tripping over his tongue with a heavy Spanish accent, “Hi, how are you doing?” And in between his glowing pecan-rican complexion and sensational authentic smile the universe turned on the engine in the middle of my sex chakra.
I thought almost out loud and caught myself with the words, he needs to stop teasing me with his flirtatiousness as I’m going to drop my clothes and have sex with him in front of all the gym members so they can take a lesson or two in sex fitness.
All of a sudden the motivation I was lacking was found. The sexual charge became the intense fuel I needed for the Rower and Stationary Bike. But mind you, I never made it to the Bike. I happily stood on the Rower machine for over forty minutes with heart-pounding cardio sex electrifying my head.
I closed my eyes and rolled them back slowly and listened to the sensuality of Sade: Show me how deep love can be. The instruments within the song seeped into my aspiring soul and I clenched onto the plastic bar pulling towards the bottom of my bulging breasts as I deeply fantasized on exerting force to match his muscular hard pecs.
We’d embrace like titanic lovers and swallow the glands of one another. Our skin would vomit sweat and we’d slip and slide in multiple active positions. The grinding would complete mine into synergy. During this time I called out to the universe and all its frequencies for Personal Trainer Rock to sense the lovemaking creation I was embarking.
I tensed my entire body in a collective kegel and chanted: I want him to feel me. I want him to feel me. I want him to feel me buck from incomprehensible pleasure. I want him to feel me right on his cock, exploding, shivering, and full of moisture, rhythm and reason. I want him to fuck out all the cum I have in this body of mine, in which he would ask me if this was indeed the kind of training I needed.
Time was up said all the energy I gave to the Rower. The back of my neck was slapped with an ounce of rower sex sweat and my calluses formed into blood moon pearls of irritation, perspiring like bubbling fire and like cold sores no matter what season of the year. I shook off my lustful anger with the inhalations and exhalations of cardio sex I entertained and when I turned around, guess who has been watching me sitting out and chilling on the massage table smiling?
The universe is good and motivation comes in different forms. Get some! 😉