people that make me angry.

Music: Natalia Kartashova plays Liszt - La Campanella
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&v=QihpVhJ-yUU&NR=1
Time: 5:50 pm

Anger bubbles up and hit her contracting throat. Rude obnoxious stuck up twigs for legs, she curses under her breath. She presses the crisp white sheets in halves and then in quarters. Fingers trembling slightly as heat of fury hiss out at the tip of her clear cut fingernails.  Tucking in the sides of the sheets with small tugs and presses, she cap seals newly made beds into tomb like tents of white.
That's you dead for infuriating me. You, you, and you.

I would hang you by the hair on the steep cliff of Cape Canaille. The salt wind would whip you silly. Nobody would hear your screams.  There is nothing gentle about the Mediterranean when a  punishment is sought.

Very Precious

Music: Lose Yourself to Dance - Dafttpunk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TBXv37PFcAQ

Time: 4:20pm

Strewn like beads of silky pearls across the neck of a blue universe. Thoughts treasured like precious stones lining the peripheral of thy mind.  My breath echoes off your skin in soft thunders. Entwined from the roots of our minds an inspiration takes a double take to flow.

Awakening.
In the very lovely minutes of my time, I dress my breasts, my thighs, my feet and my fluttering spirit. Everything is in flowers and petals. A scented spray of thick cotton candy. If I tread a pebbled path of the unknown I make Spring follow.  This was the idea.  This was the idea all along.

So I skip along the shrubberies of my everyday life with exaggerated gaiety, blossoming joy like a fertile rabbit. Pretty flowers I bend down to pick, and they delicately cut my fingers with their delicate thorns.  Pain was a necessity.

Afternoon, in bed with dreams.

Music:Stacey Kent - Hushabye Mountain
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sn6Tol70BjU

Time:3:10 pm

Ripping a delicate purple cloth in half, it tears from the middle. A soft hum lingers in the afternoon air as bees of lust buzz in the ears of the unfortunate ones. Fresh, like wind rippling over wet grass; gentle, like a single sliding tear of the deep sea mermaid. A blanket of silver stars glimmer in humble delight.
All images crumble into one warm blend of caramel. The back of my eyelids speak time. Slowly I open them like one would with a heavy window. A world of sorrow greets me.
It was something green, something blue, and maybe a touch of pink that floated in and out of focus on the soapy surface of that bright bubble. The bubble you, me, no.... we blew together.