We still desire flesh, human contact of any kind, to appeal to our obsession.
Pleasure has gained our devotion and our greed for it has consumed our faith. Are we our wants, the delusion of our needs, while seeking constant stimulation? How do we compare to the animals instincts when mankind is superior in every way? Less we control our urges, an embrace, a kiss , then exclaiming. The feeling is never enough once. How do we get over it, how do we change?
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At any price we pay for our joy. At any height or length no bound can prevent our search for pleasure. The feeling of the search just the same as the adrenalin from the point of momentary satisfaction. That rush that fulfilling surge of emotional bliss. Everything created with like passions. From the conscious to the unconsciously stationary the addiction nothing more than a fetish. A devotion for pleasure of the purest form. Pleasure of the senses smell sight taste sound touch and that metaphorical sense that makes the hairs on your body stand sending chills down your spine overwhelming the mind body and soul all at once. That pleasure we seek. Those fetishes summed into one knowingly unified obsession in us all in our known milky way. So we agree that addiction is fiction but the seduction of the fetish for pleasure is surreal with all its splendor. A feeling so fantastic its never known to be anything but a fantasized chase. A fetish for pleasure.
So bad I want to be in love
So sad I want to see my love So mad I never learned to love me So glad when my depression is released So odd when I see the proud So when I walk its like I'm in a cloud So dark it’s like the suns hides So bitterness takes me for a ride. So bad I want to be in love. So many words created with our alphabetical order with all the numbers and time moving.
I still can't find the proper phrasing because I love you has dulled its meaning. Something so cliché to say. Everyday I feel it but its appeal, its zeal, its luster. Like jewels on the finest jewelry its nothing new to me but us. Us is so much more so more refine in design. More regal like a kingdom made of gold and streets made of soft diamond sand with water so clear like walking on glass. We are in a class of our own high like the heavens glowing like the stars night and day leading the way to what truth appears to be. What all the books prophesy you and I are the vision clarified, realized and actualized love personified. Our natural connection the example of what it should look, feel, and be exactly, period point, and blank. In sync a link across the universal laws and dimensional plane no flaws in our flaws a just cause our lives are ours. I am yours and you are mine with more than words to define these signs of soulmatic emotions. At night tears well in my eyes but never will I admit I cry.
Such pain in my prayers when no one's there. Oh how I hurt for the joy in love the peace in its peace. How is it what it is unlocated in my self loathing? The lack of love for my imperfections of self loathing. Seeking pity in love dragging others down into emotional turmoil. Can't I pray to love me first aren't I worth a prayer? All the desire to please others seeking pity in love. Seeking pity? Implications suggest death is not an option. Suicide shall not be applied physically but love can never cease. Somewhere in the middle I reside. Like loving to loath myself while finding peace and joy from others in my pity and prayer. |
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