I think my being back here, in a way is a confirmation of what I'm supposed to do with the rest of my life. I'm supposed to write. So here it is. Reflections of moments past.
---
His gait was slow and steady, unsure in it's approach, yet familiar in the same sense. He had been here before, he knew all these people, he had grown up with all these faces, yet this history within the arena didn't enable them to see what he wanted to emulate, it only blinded them in a sense. He was a different person, he drank from a different well. But they all knew him, had always known him, so no matter how brightly his light shone, he was still only a light. One of the many.
She watched him ever so often, curiosity had built up this moment to be greater than it needed to be, he had confirmed her original prognosis of his character, and the satisfaction left a tingling sensation down her back. It might've been the liquor laced with Mary Jane lindy hopping in her cranium creating those physical impressions, but she felt it's power all the same.
And so she continued to watch, remained quiet as her intoxication deepened. Creating peace within her being, the magic moved through her fingers, as she watched and relayed all to her lock box of information about these people and their ways.
Light kisses replaced words, nonchalance won the battle, human beings were hilarious in their predictability, and that was the only true power she had over all. She was in essence unpredictable. But at the same time ever so simple, she did what she did to please only herself, she wore what she wore because it was what she was comfortable in. Her favorite shirt all cut up, her nipple's playing peek a boo with the darkness of the night, noticing this she simply covered it, at the same time wishing she wasn't wearing clothes at all.
What were these people's names?
The tall one, the short one, the spoilt one, the nice one, the liar, the faker, the player, the chooser, the winner, the loser.
She walked outside and sat down on the brick flooring, careful not to expose her underwear to the whole world, completely blasted and yet still conscious of society's views on all that should be modern modesty. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, trying to remember what exactly her purpose for being outside was.
She opened her eyes and looked at the stars, relishing in the idea that she see's these stars every where she goes, sometimes there were more, sometimes there were less, but the same constellations, Ghana, Saudi Arabia, England, all the same. She pictured the earth, and the silent darkness around it, how what she saw when looking up was only a small reflection of what there truly was.
Was this her purpose? Did she unconsciously sneak away from all commotion to have her moments with space and time? A continuous reminder of the ultimate truth?
She felt pride at this idea, her spirit was growing and in turn her power. She looked forward to the future.
She ran a hand over her scalp, soothing her flurried thoughts in one swift action. Her mind traveled back to the boy, she cocked her head to the side to let all her findings flow out on the pavement beside her. She brought them to her lap, and began to sort them out.
Why was she so interested she wondered. What could there possibly be about this specific group of people that intrigued her in a sense, or was it just her penchant of pulling things apart and putting them back together to simply see how it worked? Is that what she wanted to do with these boys? Wanted to understand it all, garner more knowledge, more literary gold, translate the beauty and complexities of all life with her pen and paper. That was her purpose, to understand and to help other's gain that same peace with knowledge.
There was something deeper within the workings of these seemingly dynamic people, and the curiosity tickled her senses, her patience halted any immediate need to know more, she had learned a long time ago that the things she generally projected always came back to her, the Universe was good to it's daughter.
So she took what little information she had now, and steadily built her masterpiece with it, confident in the fact that the Universe would provide the bricks and mortar soon enough, but at least the foundation was complete. She picked up her newest creation and carefully put it back where it belonged, nestled safely in the confines of her labyrinth brain. It glistened brightly amongst the others, fresh and new in it's creation, like a new born baby brought into the world.
Literal magic for the senses.
She wondered how the world worked without a mind such as hers, the idea of waking and living, breathing and dying with nothing in between was painfully abhorrent to her, the inability for a deeper depth in a persons life, in a soul was just shocking to her.
“But tis life”
She murmured, eyes low, peering at her brown skin, remembering kisses running up and down them. A smile accompanied the nostalgia.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
She was suddenly ripped from her memories, and looked up angrily at the intruder. Tall, diluted, possibly inconsequential. Her eyes skimmed his welcoming face.
“My thoughts will never be that cheap”
His countenance changed for a moment, from flirtatious to confused.
“Where are you from?”
He sat down next to her, and she tried not to laugh at the audacity of the picture, how tall was this man? And why does he think this perch is appropriate for someone of his stature?
“Born in London. Bred in Ghana”
She replied with a bored sigh, she didn't want to flirt with anyone right now, especially not someone who looked like he'd been spoon fed pussy his entire life.
“Seriously? That's dope”
She began to yearn for solitude once more, or at least for something more interesting than this. But perhaps she was just being difficult she pondered. She weighed her options, time might dissuade her. And so she turned her head back to face him and began to measure his aura as he spoke.
His lips were moving, but she hadn't heard a word he had said, he looked at her expectantly as if awaiting a reply.
“I'm sorry love, I wasn't listening”
He was offended at this.
“Are you fucked up?”
She smiled at his accusatory tone.
“Blissfully so”
Taken aback. He just looked so confused, she would've hugged him if she wasn't sure he wouldn't have taken that as a sign to attempt to stick his penis inside of her.
“But you don't even look like it”
She laughed.
“Awareness of self is a powerful thing. Intoxication opens my mind, never impairs it”
Too many words would encourage him she decided. From this point forward she would be mute.
But he seemed to read her mind, dusted his gangly knees off, stood up and moved away from her. Had he said goodbye? Had she said goodbye? Did she care?
Not particularly.
The lock box of secrets shook slightly amongst the many gems in her skull. A reminder of sorts. She to stood up, pulled her skirt down and covered her nipples.
The anticipation glistened.
“Tomorrow awaits”
His gait was slow and steady, unsure in it's approach, yet familiar in the same sense. He had been here before, he knew all these people, he had grown up with all these faces, yet this history within the arena didn't enable them to see what he wanted to emulate, it only blinded them in a sense. He was a different person, he drank from a different well. But they all knew him, had always known him, so no matter how brightly his light shone, he was still only a light. One of the many.
She watched him ever so often, curiosity had built up this moment to be greater than it needed to be, he had confirmed her original prognosis of his character, and the satisfaction left a tingling sensation down her back. It might've been the liquor laced with Mary Jane lindy hopping in her cranium creating those physical impressions, but she felt it's power all the same.
And so she continued to watch, remained quiet as her intoxication deepened. Creating peace within her being, the magic moved through her fingers, as she watched and relayed all to her lock box of information about these people and their ways.
Light kisses replaced words, nonchalance won the battle, human beings were hilarious in their predictability, and that was the only true power she had over all. She was in essence unpredictable. But at the same time ever so simple, she did what she did to please only herself, she wore what she wore because it was what she was comfortable in. Her favorite shirt all cut up, her nipple's playing peek a boo with the darkness of the night, noticing this she simply covered it, at the same time wishing she wasn't wearing clothes at all.
What were these people's names?
The tall one, the short one, the spoilt one, the nice one, the liar, the faker, the player, the chooser, the winner, the loser.
She walked outside and sat down on the brick flooring, careful not to expose her underwear to the whole world, completely blasted and yet still conscious of society's views on all that should be modern modesty. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, trying to remember what exactly her purpose for being outside was.
She opened her eyes and looked at the stars, relishing in the idea that she see's these stars every where she goes, sometimes there were more, sometimes there were less, but the same constellations, Ghana, Saudi Arabia, England, all the same. She pictured the earth, and the silent darkness around it, how what she saw when looking up was only a small reflection of what there truly was.
Was this her purpose? Did she unconsciously sneak away from all commotion to have her moments with space and time? A continuous reminder of the ultimate truth?
She felt pride at this idea, her spirit was growing and in turn her power. She looked forward to the future.
She ran a hand over her scalp, soothing her flurried thoughts in one swift action. Her mind traveled back to the boy, she cocked her head to the side to let all her findings flow out on the pavement beside her. She brought them to her lap, and began to sort them out.
Why was she so interested she wondered. What could there possibly be about this specific group of people that intrigued her in a sense, or was it just her penchant of pulling things apart and putting them back together to simply see how it worked? Is that what she wanted to do with these boys? Wanted to understand it all, garner more knowledge, more literary gold, translate the beauty and complexities of all life with her pen and paper. That was her purpose, to understand and to help other's gain that same peace with knowledge.
There was something deeper within the workings of these seemingly dynamic people, and the curiosity tickled her senses, her patience halted any immediate need to know more, she had learned a long time ago that the things she generally projected always came back to her, the Universe was good to it's daughter.
So she took what little information she had now, and steadily built her masterpiece with it, confident in the fact that the Universe would provide the bricks and mortar soon enough, but at least the foundation was complete. She picked up her newest creation and carefully put it back where it belonged, nestled safely in the confines of her labyrinth brain. It glistened brightly amongst the others, fresh and new in it's creation, like a new born baby brought into the world.
Literal magic for the senses.
She wondered how the world worked without a mind such as hers, the idea of waking and living, breathing and dying with nothing in between was painfully abhorrent to her, the inability for a deeper depth in a persons life, in a soul was just shocking to her.
“But tis life”
She murmured, eyes low, peering at her brown skin, remembering kisses running up and down them. A smile accompanied the nostalgia.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
She was suddenly ripped from her memories, and looked up angrily at the intruder. Tall, diluted, possibly inconsequential. Her eyes skimmed his welcoming face.
“My thoughts will never be that cheap”
His countenance changed for a moment, from flirtatious to confused.
“Where are you from?”
He sat down next to her, and she tried not to laugh at the audacity of the picture, how tall was this man? And why does he think this perch is appropriate for someone of his stature?
“Born in London. Bred in Ghana”
She replied with a bored sigh, she didn't want to flirt with anyone right now, especially not someone who looked like he'd been spoon fed pussy his entire life.
“Seriously? That's dope”
She began to yearn for solitude once more, or at least for something more interesting than this. But perhaps she was just being difficult she pondered. She weighed her options, time might dissuade her. And so she turned her head back to face him and began to measure his aura as he spoke.
His lips were moving, but she hadn't heard a word he had said, he looked at her expectantly as if awaiting a reply.
“I'm sorry love, I wasn't listening”
He was offended at this.
“Are you fucked up?”
She smiled at his accusatory tone.
“Blissfully so”
Taken aback. He just looked so confused, she would've hugged him if she wasn't sure he wouldn't have taken that as a sign to attempt to stick his penis inside of her.
“But you don't even look like it”
She laughed.
“Awareness of self is a powerful thing. Intoxication opens my mind, never impairs it”
Too many words would encourage him she decided. From this point forward she would be mute.
But he seemed to read her mind, dusted his gangly knees off, stood up and moved away from her. Had he said goodbye? Had she said goodbye? Did she care?
Not particularly.
The lock box of secrets shook slightly amongst the many gems in her skull. A reminder of sorts. She to stood up, pulled her skirt down and covered her nipples.
The anticipation glistened.
“Tomorrow awaits”
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