Intoxyc8me's blog: "I'm Not Flattered"

My Friend by LateNiteFantasy© The air was squat and thick as we spoke with cloudy voices by the edge No one can say what it truly takes to meet a person as they really are Chains of trust truly tender, tight and taut, Through tongue truths I met you then on that ledge. Secrets surely tattoo my body through your billowy blue eyes Those things timely spoke upon. fears, faux and pride. Beyond the markings lies a soul, seen slipping slightly from sight Passion smolders quietly amongst the embers there, hissing another’s cries. If a similar voice fails to sound when you wish it Delay your disappointment, drown that disembodiment, Like a rickety furnace in an outback house, I burn slow. But never cool. Once ablaze that’s when there’s a need to know someone was there to see fit To make something of me, that can be left to offer up. The marks on you said anything, could be read. I left it blank then but ill say this to you now as my quill If you could have said anything to me then It would be that you were my friend.

Small People, Small Minds by LateNiteFantasy© Outlook narrowed, Tunnel vision thin, Myopic, Preconceived, Prejudicial, Bigoted, Angry, outraged at those That they can not understand nor Tolerate, Beyond their small mindlessness. These few intolerant children, Born, Generation unto generation, continue To be the black mark on A proud country that by its own Constitution and Bill of rights, allows Them their ignorance.

Unusual thoughts by LateNiteFantasy© Colored clouds of confusion lay Deep and dark upon the day. Layered thoughts intertwined Cross through, around and in my mind. Bright flashes of light left behind Closing eyelids like sparkler’s shine. The growing pain so forlorn Laughter gasps and its echo is gone. The days go fast, I stumble through, And wonder where and what to do. No amount of medication to keep it away, The gnawing beast inside my brain, From its ravenous rampaging reign. The peace and quiet of beyond Is calling me on and on and on.

a question of opposites? by LateNiteFantasy© Who would have thought that the father of science is also the mother of poetry? On my body/ hands and skin are as obsservers, scientists, objective-- (but why do i think science is objective and poetry is not?) (what irony) and en este momento Lovers full with passion and desire eyes, not judges--simply screens--light and color and shape without name (my mother's hand here) yet eyes which watch for you-- "see" you there-- which is certainly not "present." (a wave of bitterness arises here.) But vision is relative. Einstein's Mother told him that Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder. Years later, he published his Theory of Relativity. Did his mama get royalties or even a footnote? i am both passion and science love and hate fear and courage and all of these are/are not dichotomies. Both and Neither are truth. Thank you poetry and language and communication. And also pure aire and nothingness and