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[12 Apr 2008|12:44am] |
I, and a bottle of red wine.
Doesn't matter how much of a social backdrop you find yourself in, sometimes there is something else at the back of your mind. In my mind, there is you. Much as I try to extricate you from my mind, there you are, a beautiful spectre. Don't start feeling for me, i'm not sad. I'm in love with your image, your lovely intensity, wine. I love the way you stare at me, promise me things I never could have. I love the way you linger in my touch, sex in red hue, in a little shining beam, the moon casting a glow into my life.
You are a romantic glee my conscience could never entertain. My belief in you mirrors my own in myself, and my hands encase your smile, your face. They lull me into this dream, this paradise. I imagine you kissing me, like the first time two lovers lips meet, like that first stare, that first pure, purest belief. I do only the things I do, because I think my lightest touch is my most beautiful, and you deserve my most beautiful touch.
But who are you?
I may never get the chance to look beyone the red glint, my fire, my delightful haze. You are my heady gaze, my lady, my ambition. You may never meet me in your crimson dress. But everything in me is designed, to coax that latent smile, that desiring gleam, and forever you remain, just so. A dream.
May you long linger in the base of my glass. My body, my buckling knees, my ascention, my pact with god, are all yours. This is not a young man believing in butterflies, it is one young man who believes in himself, and he believes in you.
And as long as your heart beats with strength, and with fervour, he will be happy. Whether your lips kiss his not.
I am sacrifice, and I am now, written out.
Goodnight folks. Christ, I needed this. I fucking love my mind sometimes.
Kisses to all.
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[12 Apr 2008|12:50am] |
That right there could be percieved in being a romantic piece. It is, or could be. Sometimes I get lost in the wine. I drank a whole bottle. I do not find this hard. I like wine. I like the way it tastes initially bitter, but then collapses on the tongue. It's like in a way, oral sex. I feel sexy. I like this feeling, because so often, I feel anything but.
But, as the wine tingles my tongue, I feel myself, the red swims through me, lights up my romantic vein. My blood flows ever more richly with ardour. The last piece I wrote, has somebody in mind. But, it is more a piece that is an honest emotional depiction of me. I am strong, ever so more than i've ever been. I am such an honurable and sincere man, and I am proud of this. I'm a flawed, silly and often stupidly loquacious fool, but i'm also just exactly that, honest.
That piece was me walking barefoot in coals, the part of me loving the wine, the sweet, heady me. The part of me saying, i'm not in love, but I could be. One day. Stupid damned me. I'm being silly. Sincere, but silly.
But I kinda like being me. More than ever. Because I am well wicked
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[12 Apr 2008|01:02am] |
So, a bottle of wine, and a busy night i'm not working on. Who'd know it? I decided to drink tonight, as i've not done so for two nights. I had a bottle of Merlot, and enjoyed some laughs with Dan and Dave, after they'd emerged from the kitchen. Very enjoyable.
I'm not drunk though. I'm hazy, and a little buzzed, but not pissed. My faculties are still very much acutely poised.
I might have one tomorrow, after work. We shall see. If Rebecca's around, I shall do nothing. Honestly. I will never sleep with Rebecca. It's precisely because I want to that I won't. You see, Rebecca is asthetically pleasing, and cute, and has everything I could want, physically. I could slam a spunk post up her black gaping alley. But...and this is a very big but.
I don't have a clue what she's like. I want to know what goes on in her head, if she's got a brain under those beautiful eyes, if she likes the Raccoons. If she likes laying in corn circles. From what i've heard, she ain't that interesting to talk to. And I can't be attracted to a girl that ain't mentally interesting.
Anyway, i'm off to sleep. Perhaps a smoke first. Go on, do one, yeah?
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[12 Apr 2008|10:21am] |
Looks very much like i'm back to the good old days of writing three posts while smashed on red wine. That stuff is a nightmare, I tell you! What syllables it doth drag forth from the darkest reaches!
I love it. What I don't love is Saturdays, though. Luckily, I was high and heady on the rouge, but not drunk. So I don't feel any the worse today. What I do have to face is the giant plodding concrete sod of work, waiting to crush my mood out of me.
Tosser.
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[12 Apr 2008|10:39am] |
Nigella Lawson, that lady chef is on the telly. She's cookiong something, and she said this:
"I like to have something hot and filling about my person"
To which I said..
"I'll fucking give you something hot and filling about your person"
With nobody in the room. I don't know, she's very annoying but I still would. It's that part of you that would bone somebody you don't really like. Not that i'd ever actually do it. I'm just saying. It's a sort of raw feeling. Maybe it's the cooking. Maybe it's because of all that food. Fucking stupid wench.
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[12 Apr 2008|10:48am] |
I don't believe it. The bitch right, makes this toffee thing and puts it in a small metal tin, and takes it over to a friends house. She eats it on the way. It's apparently too "nice" not to eat. When her mate opens the door, she goes...
"Sorry, I ate it on the way here". Her friend still lets her in. Eh? I'd say "What the fuck is this shit? I invite you over, and you bring me a poxy metal box? What kind of fucking chef are you? Piss off. Or better still, have a nibble on this. I've covered it in fucking chocolate and it's got a creamy centre. Go on, suck the cream right out of it.
If you don't want that, Nigella, you can fuck off. You fucking food making bastard!"
She would of course, refuse. Wouldn't want to soil her perfect teeth, see. I would have to do up my trousres, and slam the door in her cooking face.
Sorry, i'm in one of those rather silly moods this morning.
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[12 Apr 2008|05:47pm] |
Steve Irwin soundboard. My ultimate nightmare is if I ever manage to do the beast with two backs again, that at the point of orgasm, I will utter the words "Ah CRIKEY!"
It's not much of a fear admittedly. It's just an amusing one. Here's the link. Now piss off and have some fun.
http://www.weebls-stuff.com/games/Goodbye+Steve/
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