Layers

The romance I am forever faithful to
Where mind transcends body
Where insecurities and intimidation are as lovers

I hope your friend doesn't die because of that large bottle I chose

They were there and then I wiped the palette clean. Are they ever really mine to begin with? How is it that I can claim ownership on the cosmos of language, on the universal sanctity of communication? [This sentence is mine]. To have and to hold and to carry with me to the state of death. Shall you repeat it, or write it, you will credit me with being the curator of such a structure of sewn together letters that formed into a patch that is a word that was brought together to form a quilt that should be able to comfort each individual with it's indiscriminate warmth.

Right?

Take them.

Erected Woes

She thought to forge a journey to the desert to find it all. To find things, answers. To become lovers with the inner nature of the self. Before the journey could begin, someone else found her, and she let fastidious aspects of love materialize. Then another found her, she found one, and she found the selves she could manipulate into her own, without sacrificing the materialism that the temperamental anti- lush would not offer her. She ran, she praised, she basked, and she sacrificed. All in the name of contradiction. Despising the identifying contradictions in those who would not allow to be found by her. And in turn, contradicting the disdain that she had wrote off as invaluable and redundant. A walking crippled. A lover fueled by the most mishandled emotion of passion that is hate. The desert will not tolerate ice.