There is mystery behind not knowing what words come next when hand writing. More difficult to come by when typing. The slow paced nature of writing by hand leaves mystery to uncover, even for the writer.
There’s a pleasant seduction behind the ink of a pen. Something about not knowing how long until “the surprise” or “the point” lands on the page is alluring. Even knowing where the work will go isn’t enough. The casually paced process is designed to gradually expose.
An arousing lust, flirty and curious for the next words, drives the ideas forward. As if it smiles back tempting possibilities and teasing wants. A sexy little dance, while motionless, wiggles in the back of one’s mind as a playful draw for more proceeds.
Biting a lip, dragging the pen across the page with delicate hands to guide purpose with care. Ever-so-gentle and crafted a letter at a time, the love filled spiral of intrigued pries. Digging up the fertile soil in search of seeds. Fascinated by the limitless capacity of imagination.
Turned on by the reckless direction, starved and animalistic.
A raw, dangerous and unpredictable monster dressed in ink is the hand written narrative. Read More
...The ache, lustful with ideas.
Entertained by perpetual “What iffing.”
Once the curtain lifts the show never ends.
It’s who they are forever.
But there is no way to teach this.
There’s no way to explain it.
It has to be witnessed to be understood.
To be experienced.
You had to be there.
The best that can be done is to live what’s been earned.
One day, at least one will want what’s been learned.
When they see what’s brought to the table.
Only then will they follow.
They’ll imitate and in doing so they’ll learn, understand and realize it’s all hallow.
And it’ll turn me on.
Make these ideas more effable for the experiencee.
Make the experiencee more F-able to me.
Orgasmic in nature. Read More
Being present during the realization period of an individual is better than sex.
To watch profound ignorance be lifted.
Exchanged for clarity and awareness.
It’s hard to explain.
Say a lost cellphone lead to lost contact information when we cross paths.
It tends to take me a while to realize leftover strings were tangled around me.
They go unnoticed for weeks as I go about my day tugging them.
This is why lying is a sin.
Lucky for me, I didn’t.
About you… Well.
There’s no guilt when both players agree to put all the cards on the table before the game.
When the other player holds cards back and still loses, it’s almost a karmic high.
It’s an ironic plot twist from their point of view. Read More
Now that our hero has gone deeper into the mall he will see more opportunity to find the first thing on the list, but he is also increasing his chances to come across infectees. He'll need to keeps his eyes peeled and his attention focused to avoid putting himself in a situation he can't get out of.
By Jack Thomas Read More
Heartbreak is a natural part of the adult progression. Whether it's in love or generally in life, you'll experience humbling moments. Many of these moments will be easy to get over, but others, like a breakup, can last for the rest of your days.Here is a piece about having to let go of love. About heartbreak. About getting to know yourself.
I go through certain periods of psychosis in which the voices make my choices.
I write in circles. I blind myself to reality and formulate strange incoherent, inconsistent, persistent, and dissonant insistent… thoughts.
I thought I was something I’m not. I rot inside because my façade is all I’ve got.
I’ve got no image. Through my imagined magic I manage majesty. Anxiously, I go on. Apathy naturally pushes me gracelessly to move forward sluggishly.
I own nothing. A walking lie.
I try and try, but there isn’t a real me. There isn’t someone there to see. So I write.
I write. Understand, I don’t know why. I don’t understand. All I know is to try.
I’ve become… Read More