Love Boundary.
I began a journey. One of self reflection and the continuous self destructing battle. A journey of belief, overcoming the wrongs and hitting the 'rights' with fist first newly sharpened arrows. It made me stop. Considering the doubts. Knowledge. The atmosphere surrounding the aspect of to be and not to be. A question often considered. A question yet, left so neatly avoided.
Surrounded by a castle, seagulls crying to a sync of hyena laughter. Thoughts a distant illusion. Happiness felt yet altered. One moment in a passion of happiness, a tender hand and soft, cushion soft deep white tanned skin, I faltered. A palm became a fist. A fist became a palm. A palm became a fist. I landed face first in a sand so full of grit and stone - my picture perfect skin became the picture of her devil's daughter.
I cried. Sat one moment in the company of love, another in the company of laughter. Technology a sin of mis-communication and anticipation. A rock too hard, a stone too smooth. I sat upon a chair that held the weight of anorexia. I held her there. She being a dream. Then gently let her drift away. Opening to the heart of the loss of knowledge, the the newly formed knowledge of loss.
I look a breath, looking through a window showing a field. Temptation of paradise. A non returning train, yet a step taken always drifting backwards. I smiled, and laughed at the nonsense in my head. Only a fool shall fool oneself. I let that palm tickle me. Smiled at the screen before me. Ignoring knowledge and its certain boundaries.
A grin in the face of the devil sees me pondering a dream in which death cannot be. Death has become and already 'is'. I begin questioning the science of fiction, the whole dimension of age, time, the sexes and each continuous battle between love and it's dimension.
I smile, at a computer screen. Knowing nothing of the correct path. Knowing a decision is made for a silent voice. In a death world.
I cross the path of another boundary. Its line is etched onto a face displaying experience. I smile again. For it is all the silent heart can do.
Begin again.
Boneata Bell.
Surrounded by a castle, seagulls crying to a sync of hyena laughter. Thoughts a distant illusion. Happiness felt yet altered. One moment in a passion of happiness, a tender hand and soft, cushion soft deep white tanned skin, I faltered. A palm became a fist. A fist became a palm. A palm became a fist. I landed face first in a sand so full of grit and stone - my picture perfect skin became the picture of her devil's daughter.
I cried. Sat one moment in the company of love, another in the company of laughter. Technology a sin of mis-communication and anticipation. A rock too hard, a stone too smooth. I sat upon a chair that held the weight of anorexia. I held her there. She being a dream. Then gently let her drift away. Opening to the heart of the loss of knowledge, the the newly formed knowledge of loss.
A grin in the face of the devil sees me pondering a dream in which death cannot be. Death has become and already 'is'. I begin questioning the science of fiction, the whole dimension of age, time, the sexes and each continuous battle between love and it's dimension.
I smile, at a computer screen. Knowing nothing of the correct path. Knowing a decision is made for a silent voice. In a death world.
I cross the path of another boundary. Its line is etched onto a face displaying experience. I smile again. For it is all the silent heart can do.
Begin again.
Boneata Bell.
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