Together in Infinity

Collapse and spiral into this dream. Give yourself over to this feeling, this desire. Open wide those shy eyes and see the world as it presents itself. Perception is reality, and its manifestation is derived from consciousness.

Your consciousness.    Your reality.

We may never meet, we may never touch, we may never love, but we will share this space together. No matter   how  vast    the    distance   or     how   stretched     the     time     between     us     in this ethereal plane, we are Aware. Of each other. You there, me here. Our existence irreversibly intertwined like the strands of our DNA, deep inside. We are dancing here, the pulse carrying through the realm as it penetrates like electric  rain into each and every one of us.. over and over and over. You feel it. You can’t deny it. And you have no need to. You are here. As am I. And we are aware. Of everything. And nothing.

Simultaneously.

How frightening the thought of knowing that which can save or destroy you. Are you scared? Are you confused? Do you believe me? Do you want to know more? Do you avoid knowing all together? Are you here? Where? Here. in this place, questions are more important than answers. Ask the right question, and the answer becomes irrelevant. Ask the wrong question, and the answer may be the only savior capable of saving you. But saving is beyond you. Beyond me. Beyond everything we can ever conceive of. For you see, we are  Lost. Unquestionably. Happily. Eternally.  And purposefully.

And that is why we know each other. That is why we’re here. Together. We are Lost, and we have no intention.  Of.  Ever.  Being.  Found.

Nightmare

Here and there yet everywhere
the clouds come to pass
closed eyes and hearts of fear,
such Feelings shouldn’t last

Pressure builds from deep within
as breaths catch to quicken
and here the start – to begin,
with Power to hurt and sicken

A sharpened edge would be less blunt
than the pain of what’s been lost
but here the guilt is softly shunt
but not it’s unpaid cost

Here and there yet everywhere
the intensity ebbs and flows
caught in lust devoid of care
its appetite grows and grows

A feeling sharp, a feeling dull
the pain cuts much too fast
the last Mark upon the soul
an impression left too vast

And where have all the Stars gone?
in their darkened world – goodbye
here and there yet everywhere on
the sky begins to sigh.

The Scent of Possibility

The smell sliced through the air, sealing me in a cloud of fragrance. I closed my eyes and felt the particles dancing accross  my skin. The sun was warm on my flesh, and it completed the picture that was painting itself around me. Sunlight traveled a long distance to reach this planet; an infinitesimal portion of that sunlight was enough to warm the air around my body, to make the fragrance even more awe-inspiring. I was moved beyond words. That something as insignificant as a woman’s subtle scent had its place in the workings on the universe, that the cosmic order did not overlook this simple momentary truth. The fragrance encircled me in a way I’d never known, as though the very air had taken on her scent and turned so gracefully into a living breathing entity intent on making its presence known to me in the most physical way possible. The gripping I felt inside at the exploration of its intricacy astounded me, and the labyrinthine mystery of its clockwork textures left me wondering just what type of purpose this particular machine could possibly have. Not only for me, but for the vastness of the world and all the people this scent would ever encounter, I was curious. And I dare say, instantly enthralled.

Isolation Unit 02 -Memory-

My phone never rings. I have a lot of friends, and I know for a fact they all have my phone number… But I never get any calls! I even asked my brother to phone me this morning to wake me up. I’d never wake up without his help! I don’t own an alarm clock, and he wakes me up every day. But he never called me today! I hope he’s doing alright. I haven’t talked to him in so long. Oh, hold on a moment. “Hello? Yes. No I’m afraid I don’t have any need for long distance service. Thank you.” Now what was I saying? Yes! My brother. He’s a wonderful fellow. Very punctual. But he never called me today. I wonder if my phone is broken…do you know if there is such a thing as a telephone repair man? Or is it best to buy a new phone in a situation like this? I should probably ask my brother, he works for the phone company.

I just finished watering the flowers…but they keep dying. I water them, and yet they still die. Its a horrible state of affairs, I tell you. I measure out the water exactly, put in just enough of their daily fertilizer to keep them healthy, and even give them plenty of sunlight there on the patio. I don’t know the problem could be. I really think its genetic somehow. I try and try and try, and the natural order of things just smites my efforts. I really shouldn’t be so hard on myself though. You know just the other day I was listening to Chopin, and relaxing all nice like you know, and I got thirsty! You know, if only I had a glass of water I was thinking. So I got up and got one, and I thought to myself, “Wow, if only I had someone to to this for me everyday…”. I tell you that’d make my life easier. Speaking of easy…I need to go out and buy some groceries. But if you’ll excuse me, I need to water my flowers.

Excuse me sir, may I ask a question? Yes…where is my house? What do you mean you don’t know where I live? How should I know that? Well of course I live there! Why the hell would I lie about having a bloody house!? NO, I WILL NOT TELL MY MOTHER THAT! Goodness, I was just wondering where my house is. I seem to have gotten a bit lost after picking up some groceries. If you can’t help me, I understand, but I figured you’d be able to tell me where I live. Why would I think that? Well because you’re a Postman!You have to get my mail to me somehow. Oh yes sir, thats my name. Oh a letter? Can you deliver it to my house? Excellent! I’ll just follow you.

I was talking to the postman earlier. He brought me an unexpected package. It was slightly surprising. I never seem to be expecting mail, though I always seem to get it. I chock that up to the unpredictability of the postal service! Sometimes though, when I am expecting letters…they never come. I wonder if I’m doing something wrong? Once again, I chock that up to the postal service! My postman told me kindly that I really should open my mail though. You see I got this unexpected package, saw that it’s obviously not something I should read, and I threw it away. First time I ever threw away a letter. He made quite a fuss out of it though…oh the unpredictability of the postal service!

There are days when I forget. Or is it days…I can’t remember? I forget. Its an odd sensation, like being lost in the fog and not really knowing where you’ve been or where you’re going. It gets thicker and thicker, and eventually swallows you completely, leaving you to go about the same task with the same clarity and resolve hundreds, thousands, of times…and have no recollection of it. But only sometimes. That’s the thing about these days. They aren’t everyday. At least I don’t think they’re everyday. I honestly couldn’t tell you…but it doesn’t seem that way. I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.

isolation unit 01 -longing-

I’ve begun a kind of an adventure into writing, and this new creative experience I’ve labeled Isolation Unit. Sometimes I take this task alone, other times I will write with friends about certain topic, knowing we’ll all have different interpretations and styles of writing in our final result. This is one such product of my Isolation Unit, and hopefully more will follow. But I thought I’d share them to see if anyone might enjoy them or have any thoughts or ideas to share or receive. Enjoy.

isolation unit 01 -longing-

You know it’s strange. I miss you. I never thought I’d miss you, considering I see you almost every day. But I miss your body, standing there in front of me, the picture of you come to life. I miss you being here. Just…being here. Laying next to me, your head gently resting on my shoulder as you breathed those soft shallow breathes of yours. The movements your body would make when I’d caress you. The small of your back, your neck, you legs, your lips…I touched them in ways they weren’t used to. And I know you loved it. The ice cold, jolting you to your senses, brought you back through the haze and fog of thought and fatigue and returned your interest to me. To my lips. To my slender neck. Moving down to my chest, as your fingernails drew small designs on my back, your breath warm and soft as its wisps tickle me as you make your way down. Its not as though I need those things. But I loved them. I loved touching you and waiting for your body’s reaction. But my favourite was to satisfy you with enough pleasure that you got carried into orbit.  Watching you make your way through the clouds as your body reentered our atmosphere… it was better than anything for me. Watching shooting stars is nothing compared to your body coming back to me. And then theres the things you do to me. You’d get lower and lower as I went higher and higher…and I miss it. I miss my own reactions. Not even physical…but the emotions you inspired with me. The emotions…you do inspire in me. Like these. I’ve never missed you more than when I realize I’ve never had you to miss. I’ve never seen your body coming back to me, the reactions you have to my cold hands; I’ve never felt those kisses of love wistfully delivered to me as you loved me so gently…but I have seen you… from a distance. And I just wanted to let you know…that I miss you. I miss you more and more, because ultimately it isn’t you I’m missing…it’s just a concept. One we all aspire to. Is that so wrong? Am I…so wrong?

[life] with you.

Isn’t it great to find that you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone? Finally realizing that freedom we all have. Isn’t it great to not have to worry about having to do the crazy things we do to stay alive?  It always becomes so unbearable, that endless cycle we’re expected to complete. I was so tired of running that neverending race. Now I don’t have to run it at all. I can take my time and just walk with you. We have all the time we’ll ever need to talk, all the time we could ever want to laugh. Nothing but the time we need to. . . feel.

We don’t have to worry about growing old, because we have plenty of time for our stories to be told. It’s so wonderful not having to worry about anything anymore. Anything at all. I’m here with you now. . . and it’s more than I could ever have imagined. Its so nice to experience you this way.To be able to be open and true and not even need to expect it in return. I’m finally happy here. And that’s living isn’t it? Or something like it?  That’s what I’m going to do now. For as long as I can. Because it’ll end sometime. I know that, it always does. But I just want to stay Here. . .  with you. If you’ll let me.

The Solitary Shadow

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I’m feeling it again. I’m not sure how to control it or what to do about it. So I think writing it might help. It just hits me sometimes. Where I feel like I’m the only one here. I mean I have my friends, but I’m not very close to anyone. And at times I’m very acutely aware of it, and I feel kind of lost. A flash of realization. A moment of stark isolation that really gets to me.I can’t keep myself busy enough to not think about it ya know? So I try to ignore it, or try to face it, and end up having to deal with it even more. Its moments like these I’d love to slap myself and not have to worry about it. But I don’t, and it continues.

I’m sure I’m not the only one feeling it though. I don’t contest that. Everyone gets lonely. But this is different. More intense maybe. But ultimately because it’s me who is feeling it, it’s me who is really that affected. It isolates me even more because of that singular perception I think. It comes and goes though. But I think everyone is ultimately alone. Our perceptions are uniquely ours, our lives may be shared but the experiences and feelings are only ours to know. Its nice when we can connect with other people though. That’s what makes life so interesting and worthwhile, aside from the beauty and experiences in it. But ultimately we live together, and die alone.

It makes me wonder what I can do about it. Get out more, connect better with people. Foster more fulfilling intimate relationships. Sure, those make sense. They sound nice. It isn’t that simple though. And I’ve tried it. Like I said, it isn’t all the time I feel this way. I’m good most of the time. The majority even. Content. Happy.  It’s just those moments where the outer layer of comfort and contentment get ripped away that I feel it. And by then, I become a temporary observer to the goings on of my now unpleasant and isolated existence. Its an out of body experience for me by then. I watch the screen until the show ends, and then I’m fine again. Someone changes the channel, or the lights come up after the movie. And there I am, just as I was before. I go back to being the me I normally am, with a hazy expectation of yet another isolating attack of lonely realization in the future.

Once Again.

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“I’ll be there, I’ll be there. Not far behind. Just stay a little longer. You know you’ll regret it if you go.”

This absence has been quite journey for me. I must admit though, I had an amazing time. Summers are always a time for growth and exploration for me, and this summer was no exception. Travel and play do wonders for increasing the amount of satisfaction in someone’s life. It’s really amazing how refreshed one can feel after getting out of the familiar bubble of everyday existence. I won’t apologize for enjoying myself, though I’m disappointed I couldn’t write as much as I would’ve liked during my time away.

I’m back in school now though, slowing getting back into my own unique routine after a summer of cross-country adventuring and increasingly late nights. I’m planning on updating more throughout the semester though, expectantly, when I have a break in my studies and can go through the process of putting something down in digital ink. So as always, return if you enjoy the whispers, or subscribe. I’ve got quite a collection of erotic whispers to post as well, for those of you who enjoy the pleasures afforded by human sexuality. And the occasional poem and thought thrown in to fully express myself. A constant pursuit.

Constantly rearranging, changing itself like some unpredictable shape shifting element; does it even have a form? The process gets altered, repeated,  revised, interrupted, abandoned and then ultimately restarted again…but I finally get a result. Is it the result I’m happy with? Usually. That ultimately only matters to me. But the result is always wholly mine. And because of that, I’m proud. I just wish I could do it better. This creation of thoughts and ideas. This articulation and expression only I can do for myself. That’s why I continue, why I pursue this goal. That, and because I enjoy it.

Hopefully you enjoy it too.

The Return

Rushing and skipping, its runs past without a backwards glance before disappearing altogether. Thats how my days have been as of late. Still I keep going, my pace never really slowing. Summer’s arrived just on its predicted time for the part of the country I live in.  I really do enjoy mild summer days, you know the kind; a soft breeze tickling your skin as you lay on fresh smelling grass watching the clouds lazily make their way between the gaps of the leaves in the trees. Thats the kind of summer I look forward too. But of course I seldom experience that kind of ideal summer day here. Instead the weather here is unbearably hot, while having high humidity that makes my hair curl, and usually with the smallest hint of a breeze lurking just out of sight or feeling. You might be able to see why I tend to travel away from this kind of place during the summer. Better and brighter fields eh?

I just returned from an amazing visit to the midwest US [Colorado to be exact], which may explain my sudden discussion of the weather. I experienced the kind of weather that suits me perfectly, and I began to miss it as soon as the plane left the ground. Summer is still gradually approaching Colorado, so the unpredictability of spring weather was a welcome change. From soft breezes and sudden rain showers, to mountain winds and unexpected snowstorms, it was perfect. Oh how I love the outdoor-friendly cool and mild weather, and the panoramic mountain scenes!

Escaping the city and venturing out into the country was such a welcome change, and actually getting to don my hiking boots and feel the rocky trails and steep slopes as they climbed towards the sky brought back my awe and respect for the mountains. Not as though it ever left me, but it tends to slide out of focus when I’m so far away from it all. I enjoy hiking and being outdoors above all other physical activities…well, aside from that physical activity, mostly because I feel so at ease in nature and really just love exploring country on foot, even if for only a few thousand feet at a time.

As always though, I wish I had more time to lose myself in it all. But I’m back now, right here. Sorry I’m late. Its becoming a bad habit isn’t it?

Time…

I’d had quite a bit of time lately; time to think, time to act. With my laptop charger dying earlier in the month, I was pretty much cut off from things online for awhile. I kept writing during this time though, jotting thoughts and poems down in my notebook, some of which I may post here soon. I’ve also had a good bit of time to play with my PSP again. Crisis Core :Final Fantasy VII, and Monster Hunter 2, currently have me addicted to it once again. I’ve also managed to finish a few more books, while also accumulating even more to read.

I finished rereading The Elephant Vanishes and Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman, both a collection of short stories my favourite author, Haruki Murakami. I’m currently reading another collection of stories by him called After The Quake, as well as an anthology of true-life psychedelic drug experiences akin to something you might find in the experience vaults on Erowid, called Tripping by Charles Hayes. So far it has proven to be as true to the psychedelic experience as I’ve encountered myself, and it has provided so much variation in experiences. It really is amazing how much the substances can open you up to, and what kind of experiences you can have.

The experience of not having a functional computer was short lived however, as I finally managed to order a replacement and get back in touch with everything just this week. But having that absence of the electronic frontier from my everyday life put quite a lot of things into focus for me. Most of that focus was on my time…

Time goes by. The progression of events seemingly flowing one after another in the unavoidable direction in front of me. Even the smallest amount of time I’m acutely aware of, a second, slips from my grasp as thoughtfully unfulfilled as the minutes, hours, days, and weeks that came before it. Its not that its wasted, it just isn’t being used to its full potential. But just what am I doing? Where am I going? I don’t know… I do know where I want to go, and what I want to do…but is there any feasible way to get myself there? Is there any reality in those dreams I’ve created for myself? I’d like to think so, but ultimately I’m never sure. “Time will tell” as they say, I just need to make sure I’m listening.

Sent On the Wind

I was here, in this bedroom with my window open, in this apartment on the second floor when it happened. I was reading the new book I bought at the bookstore just the day before, Coraline, a dark fairy tale of sorts. Armin Van Buuren’s “A State of Trance” radio show was playing as well, the trance music pumping out of my laptop as it sat on my futon.”Take me away” was the lyric that caught my attention, from the song of the same name by 4 Strings, which I was familiar with. I paused in my reading, page 87 at the bottom of the page where it said: “And then she slept.” I’m not sure what it was, but somehow these things were connecting in my mind. I wasn’t sure then what it was, but what I was sure of, was that it was something familiar.

I shrugged it off, and continued to read and listen to the music. No sooner had I turned the page though, did I find myself caught off guard. My book dropped to the floor, I quickly paused the music, and began to smell the air. And it was you. It was your scent, your smell. No mistake, this scent I once knew so well. All those nights we spent wrapped in each others arms. All those times you’d kiss me and whisper your love to me. All the times we’d spend together over that summer laying on the grass and looking up at the stars. You were there, and with you that glorious scent that’s become a permanent part of my memory. Yes, this deep, passionate smell…it’s you. It’s you.

For a moment I let my senses get the best of me, and I ran through the living room and out onto the balcony. And I looked down to the parking spaces, but they were all empty. It was just me, no one else. I was expecting to see you, heralded by your exquisite scent…but you’re not here. I don’t know what I was thinking…I mean, how could you be?

I sat down on one of the green chairs on the balcony, taking deep breaths and just smelling. Your scent was here, but just barely…I tried to savour it while I could, to keep it fresh in my mind, to engrave it deeper…but then it was gone. A breeze sweeps by, and you precious scent…it fades off into the cloudless sky. Back to you I suppose…I wonder if you sent it to me? Haha… it would be comforting to think that. After almost 3 years of no longer being in this world, I still think about you. And I know you’d think about me too, if you could. But still..

Thank you for the memories…and that lovely smell.

 

An Observation of Mnemosyne

I love to explore my memories, trying to once again regain some sense of the reality associated with those experiences, or those thoughts, or those emotions. Some memories seem more like daydreams, surrounded in a hazy fog of thought. Others though are more tangent, like an experience that occurred no more than an hour ago, regardless of how many years have actually passed since the scenery and interactions became immortalized in my mind. An innumerable amount of memories, and various different ways to uniquely explore them all. I’m sure everyone does this at some point, going back to one of those memories that still hold meaning in their mind, and just examining them. I tend to do this much more than I should though, I believe. Perhaps I’m just frequently introspective, or rather hopelessly sentimental. Maybe my detailed memory has something to do with it…since I do tend to remember just about everything that happens to me, even those things I wish I could forget. Surely everyone has memories they wish they couldn’t remember?

Aside from not wanting to remember things, there is the habit that people have of forgetting things. This doesn’t happen to me very often though, strangely enough. If someone’s talking to me and I’ve forgotten what it was they said to me earlier, that generally implies I wasn’t ever really paying attention, not that I’ve actually forgotten it. But everyone forgets things at some point or another. Answers to questions on a midterm, or where you left your keys after coming in from a busy day. But what about people? About names? About actions? About your relationships and your joint experiences?

I can say with assurance I’ve never forgotten about anyone I’ve been close to. But I’m sure lots of people who “aren’t good with names” do forget peoples names. In fact, I have forgotten someones name. Though I attribute it to not hearing him correctly after we were introduced, I did forget it when I saw him again. I did learn his name properly that time, and I haven’t forgotten it since. I’m sure people also completely forget other people, whether from not seeing them for a long time, or because they just put that memory out of mind and can’t get it back, or for some other reason.Those who are or who have been close to me though; my friends, my family, the experiences I’ve had with them, and all the memories. Those I honestly could never forget, and I’d never want to. I of course will never forget kissing my first love in the airport, or any of the feelings or emotions I experienced in that relationship that I can still recall. Or the wonderful European accents of another who whispered to me deep into the night. Or my dear friend beyond the midnight window, I could never forget you and all of your kindness and love. Or the lover who I had many firsts with, including learning to ride a horse, I could never forget you or how much you loved me. Everyone who’s ever left their mark on me, who has changed my life, they’re all very important to me, and I will never forget them. I wonder though… will someone will forget me?

I’ve thought rather extensively on the possibility of being completely and utterly forgotten. Dust blown away in the wind. Sometimes though I think how nice it would be to just stop existing, to have my presence effectively erased from reality as though I were never here to begin with. Of course this is a dangerous course to wander down, but its purely in a hypothetical sense. I much more frequently am worried about being forgotten. I want those people I know, those people I love, and those I’ve encountered and shared experiences with…I want them to remember me. Some part of me at least. No one can fully remember me as I am completely, because no one person has ever seen all of me. But as long as some small element of my being is remembered… any part of me; my body, my smile, my voice, my kisses, my taste, my smell, my thoughts, my dreams…then it gives me a greater hope for my existence. I’ll no longer purely exist as this singular being I am, I’ll exist within them as well, in some abstract fragment of the whole. You might gather that I might even want you, the one who’s eyes are reading this on a computer screen, to somehow remember me.

Perhaps you will?

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Winter’s Eternal Silence

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Gazing at your now frosted breath
Have you finally grown numb?
Like our slowly wilting flower petals
frozen so closely in such a sinful embrace
cracking upon the faintest touch

Cutting your happiness so swiftly
bringing you back to your senses by cruelty
I see you’ve done nothing to fight this fate
your hearts grown cold, like those icy petals

My dreams too have also iced over
stopped dead in their pursuit of happiness
frozen to those few shattered remnants
of our love that was warm yet fleeting

If I am not allowed to even feel
then force me beneath the snow
with those same frigid hands you’ll use
to stop my final breath from escaping

While you shiver as your fingers clasp tight
look at me as I remember you
I need you to see my final tears
freezing as they run down my cheek

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Let this memory take root within you
An ever blossoming reminder of your last sin
cracking and decaying all that you could have been
as it devours the final remnants of our shattered dream
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Blossoms of Us

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Here in our garden of profusely blooming flowers

In this isolation that we’ve so dearly created
This is where we blossom so delicately…

Entangled so happily in this everlasting embrace

Engulfed so fully in the deepening color of our petals

To be so sweetly devoured by our leaves and blossoms
This is where we’ll wither so decadently…

These glorious petals will eventually dry and crack so effortlessly
Nothing but fine dust to be carried off on the winter winds

And in the end nothing will remain here

nothing, save for our precious memories of a time gone by…

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“Won’t you come with me?”

In the Silence

I’ve been dealing with a few things recently. The first has been about my schedule, my sleeping habits. I stay up later and later, seeing dawn come and go before I gently drift off to sleep. I’ll sleep for a few hours, and wake to do what needs to be done for the day, before settling back in and enjoying the night again. Its been suggested to me that if I didn’t make a conscious effort to sleep, I’d just keep progressively staying up later and later, until eventually I’d be back on a “normal schedule”. It’s even been encouraged a few times, that this might be an easier way than trying to go to sleep earlier and earlier, as a solution to this “problem” of mine. Of course I don’t buy this for a minute. It isn’t that I have a problem, but I don’t have a reason not stay up. This is my normal schedule, as is indicated by this blog. I’m most aware and “awake” during the hours when only light in the sky is the moon and the splash of stars, and I enjoy this time more than any other. I’ve always been this way, and now that I’m free enough to actively practice this joy of mine without sacrificing any of my responsibilities, I’m fully embracing it. Now as the seasons steadily change, and summer approaches, I’m sure I’ll make my natural progression back into being awake more during the day. This is of course only so I can do the things I love to do during the summer. Hiking, swimming, spending time outside, or contemplating the memories of times gone by. It’s something to look forward to anyway.

The second has concerned my attempts at writing posts and organizing my thoughts. I’ve written many posts recently, though I’ve only finished one of those. Some of them were abandoned, some were saved and consequently revisited without success. And the one that was finished…I just couldn’t post it. Mostly for personal reasons…I’m not ready to post it yet. It’ll be posted eventually though, hopefully one day soon. I’ve begun just not to worry about thinking about my posts, instead focusing my attention on my hobbies and other thoughts, though I still come back to the keyboard in an effort to express myself. As my thoughts have become more contemplative recently, I’ve been writing increasingly thoughtful posts, and a few erotic stories, but those are dutifully being revised. I’ve been reading copiously as of late, absorbing myself in novels one after another, and taking my mind off of things. I recently finished a wonderful nonfiction work, Henry and June, from the diaries of Anais Nin, who some may recognize as a prolific erotic author. I’ve also been reading some of H.P. Lovecraft’s stories, and some fantastic science fiction from Arthur C. Clarke, and William Gibson [Pattern Recognition is an AMAZING novel]. Aside from that I think I’m addicted to the Professor Layton and The Curious Village game for the Nintendo DS, as the puzzles have even started to appear in my dreams.

Which brings me to the last thing, my dreams. My dreams have also been much more intense recently, whether from my reading, my thoughts, or my emotional state, and have started to occupy my thoughts during my time spent awake as well. For days I’ve had dreams that are lengthy, detailed, abstract, thematic, and most of all, connected. Its really be strange, and slightly overwhelming when I wake up. I’d love to make sense of them. Perhaps I’ll end up chronicling them. I’ve toyed with the idea, and with transforming them into a written collection of stories. Though I couldn’t honestly say anyone would find them enjoyable or entertaining, as they’re mostly a collection of darkly inclined pieces of unique mental art. Though I’m sure it would be genuinely enjoyable to remember them, and delicately write them down. So I may just start doing that, as well as writing down more of my written works, aside from erotica and poems. I know some of my readers are only here because of those delicious stories I’ve written. So I suppose my writing and thoughts at least appeals to people’s erotic sensibilities. Perhaps thats an indication of something… human nature perhaps?