At Night , Is When It's Magical.

I always feel at peace, when I can bask in the light of the moon.

Moon....

I'm on my knees.... Reaching up to the moon tonight.

Offering myself for her full embrace.

Take you by the hand, just get lost in nature

paulmp

Seeing this made me while, reminds me of when you were little, they wouldn't let you play video games, hogged the system.

I'll let you play......

Any time you wish, my hand, wrapped around your throat, feeling your pulse wildly thumping inside my grasp.

Relishing and worshipping your body.

Enjoying the sounds of your labored breathing, restricted sounds emitting from you.

The scent of sex and sweat.

Come here my moon, rise for me tonight, I'll let you play.

My moon....

““I can’t lose you. Because if I ever did, I’d have lost my best friend, my soul mate, my smile, my laugh, my everything.””

—

You are my thoughts, no matter what time of day.....

Alfred Worden, Crescent Earth rising beyond the Moon’s barren horizon. 

Apollo 15, July 26 – August 7, 1971, orbit 70. 

Courtesy of Christie’s Images Ltd.

Tonight my mood.... To press myself against your chest, let the emotions out, as I soak in your protective aura....

The deep painful introspective looks in the mirror at myself, have the same weight as someone's judgmental take on me, as they pass by with their first impressions as they judge either how I look, or how they chose to see me.

Either way it's as soothing to my soul as standing in one spot, barefoot on hot blacktop as the sun beats down upon it.

Maybe I never get to put away the knife, or better yet forget where I laid it. I'd settle for wiping it off on my sleeve and putting it in its sheath.

The untrusting darkness in me, combined with the auras that decide to pass by instead create the need to clench it so hard in my hand my knuckles turn white.

Fractured thoughts converge, tinting my field of vision around me.

It's not fear, but weariness.

I rather would choose the darkness or at least the shadows than to be laid bare in the unforgiving sun.

To bathe in the moonlight is to heal, to weather my skin to handle the torment of my waiting demons.

I see the silence in their touch, I hear the cold embrace against my skin.

At least their companionship is steady, the cuts, bruises, the crimson trail of thoughts they plant is expected.

I don't embrace them, but I've learned to depend on them for at least a normalicy in my life.

Without my anxiety, my demons that remind me in my sleep not to ware dream of a fairy tale life, I'd be tempted to trust those around me.

Instead I live looking for patterns... What do they want?what do they seek from me? What can I do for them?

Once they take a look at my face, or my intense soul the majority show themselves as weak, selective, callus in how they change, turn, ignore, block, or disappear.

Trust....

What the fuck is that anyway?

Unconditional acceptance... Yeah ok.. Now that's a beautiful fantasy.

I would rather be labeled too intense, or untrusting, I would rather always hold my knife and count on one hand those that may actually give a fuck about me, then to live like the lemmings that think popularity in numbers is love, or that kind words aren't laced with dark intentions.