Sugar, Spice, and everything Gold.

Black.

Coral.

Grey.

Light grey.

Goldenrod light.

Light beige.

& white

Are the 7 colors that make up my rainbow. A healthy treasure sits, dazzling at the end of this rainbow in a shined deep black pot, nursing a very vigorous cluster of sugar and spice, and everything nice; Gold. Sitting at the end of my colorless rainbow, my gold sits in a clear bullet proof case, unapproachable.

Imagine, traveling many miles while sleep walking, for I do not accept ‘tis reality. For all I’ve known has now disappeared with the suns shine and the winds kiss. For all I’ve known now has no meaning for its color tells no story, and its value has decreased because of my greed. Passion is now undervalued because of my gluttony.

The thought of bathing in my lust, I close my eyes and smeared imagery of silk skin appears. In a blurred distance, I recognize an X to the left, which marks my final destination. Spinning swiftly in the right direction, there is Life, sitting, smiling, and waiting for me, ever so patiently. Ever so beautiful.

My pale world is replaced with cotton candy clouds hovering marshmallow hills, when I close my eyes. The wind sings foreign melodies in perfect harmonies, all while the sun smiles its joy down. Smother me in sweet kisses I ask, juicer than the blackest berry, softer than hearts of lovers. Haul me in a hovering motion into its direction of bliss, however, when my eyes slowly depart, reality of my dull new found humanity reappears and there are no birds chirping, no smiling flowers and certainly no sugar and spice. No gold, no you.

How do I get it back? Must I change the ways I’ve become so set into? Cut the veins that circulate my cursed blood of greediness, mystery and clever deceitful behavior. Where to begin?

Color my world grey and shield my gold and here I am, begging for forgiveness. However, I am unsure if it’s simply, I miss the shine of the eye and pleasure of owning something as pure as such or if I’ve grown into something vindicated as of now. Such a clever lad I’ve grown to be…

Walking in footsteps already taken, I redirect my mission, not for gold, but to simply enjoy a colored soulful world. Indulge myself in those marshmallow hills and cotton candy clouds again, longing for more then treasures, but happiness. Roaming this quest, will not only damage my feet, but is capable of injuring my soul, my pride and reputation. Understand; miles for me are mere steps for you that I am willing to protract for its treasure that sits at the end of my journey. Sitting, smiling, and waiting for me ever so beautifully.

With each step taken towards change my world begins to brighten, one strain at a time, growing colorfully beautiful. Imagine, traveling many miles while sleep walking, transitioning with every mile, and when every particle has been renewed in your body, and your feeling refreshed…..

…..you look up and you’ve reached your gold. Sitting, smiling, and waiting for you ever so patiently.

An Untitled Tale.

I remember when I decorated my bathroom. Chastity was pure. Chastity was my only possession. I cherished nothing more but Chastity. This room…

The room I’m in at this moment reminds me of my bathroom; only, my bathroom was Ikea influences. Wash cloths assembled with designer fuzzy white floor mats and white hand-dry towels (that were never to be used) hung from titanium silver hedges. This room I’m sitting in is white as well. Four walls, a ceiling and a floor: All white. Yes there’s a door, however, it is red, and poorly aligned to properly meet the desire of being placed as a center piece of Wall 1, if that’s not too much to add. I can’t help but to think while sitting, staring in a gaze at this off centered door...underneath the final coating of paint; deeper into the wood frame design was a plan of perfection. And to think, one asshole fucked it all up, not to mention didn’t care to fix it. I bet he used his Big hammer, along with an impressive educational background and degree in this source field, prepping for this very moment. For he is in fact, the master of measuring and correctly assembling door frames, according to his diploma. Funny to know that a person who’s profession relies on detail, could fuck up so royally. As I sat, gazing at the gold knob on the fucked up red door, in this white room, I finally realized, I was trapped like a mime. Trapped within the Walls of 1, 2, 3 and 4, but mostly, trapped within a mind of insanity that I refuse to admit as my own. Needless to say, a mime may pity me. For I have no plan to escape, I have no desire to monitor these walls in search of the secret hot spot that ultimately releases me into the world to live forever free without a sound. So scratch the mime comparison all together, I feel as though I’m locked away inside a coffin, breathing through an oxygen tank to relieve life throughout the scene of death. Mr. Mime, no need to pity me.

In my bathroom, I would sit in the corner of Wall 2 and write memories into memory holders. I could never remember days, only recollections of moments that will never channel again. Funny how that works. Memories, I mean. I can not tell you exactly what textile I pranced around in that day, however, my mind can vividly recall the moments that were the sweetest, word for word, second for second. Or maybe only the moments I wish to bear in mind.

As I sit in my corner of my new white room in corner 2, I can’t help but to think of my Chastity. However, interrupting my thoughts, the doors red has begun to leak unto the white floor. Melting into a puddle of sorrow. This door knew that it had been fucked by that man and forgotten. Bleeding into another world, into another story, Mr. fucked up red door had begun bleeding into another colors pain. Poor lonely red has begun inching its way to my corner, so slow and seductive. I watched as Chastity began to reveal herself to it so willingly. Chastity, my Chastity, I should've known. You only bring me here, feeling like that child again. For I am here, the same as before, wrapped inside of my own anguish, leaking my own blood. Chastity, my Chastity, I should’ve known. Mr. Red, please do not poplute your sin into my pure Chastity. Again.

This room was not my bathroom. In fact, this is nothing like my bathroom. In my bathroom, I live for the memories of Chastity. Who was so violently ripped away from my bosom like a child.

I am suicidal, and this terrible room hinders my intention. Where am I? Where is my Chastity?

Tell me...

The agony of loosing laughter.
Dull clusters of glitter filling eyes.
When the sky is gray at sunrise.
I wonder
How do you feel?
When
the flesh you despise is surrounded by the heart you love?
& The mind you long for
doesn't direct the feet of the beholder back to you?
How do you wash away memories
When
Finger prints are ingrained into every portion of your skin?

The agony of loosing laughter.
Dull clusters of glitter filling eyes.
When the sky is gray at sunrise.
How
Do you brighten up your smile?
& Everything that personally delivers joy to your world
has locked itself away in a dungeon of sorrow?
How
Do you love?

What agony it is...
...to loose laughter.