#livebeyond

[cyanidemind]

two types of lust

[Monday, December 6th, 2021. 10:55 p.m.]

there are two kinds of lust:

the first is primal, animalistic, where fast fingers rip at bras half-covering your bust. it's the stirring in the pit of my gut, the rush of blood, caressing myself and pretending each callous swipe is your touch.

it's seeing red lace and thin straps ride legs so skinny they'd be in a kid's meal, hips so spotless they could belong to mannequins. you topless with a small hand shyly covering up, only to move slowly into crossing your ankles causes that lust to bubble, to rise to the surface; like lava, to erupt.

yet the second lust is more contained, less reliant on bites and restraints, less about the aftercare from the spanking pain, less concerned about your curled toes and o face.

no topic on our tongues is jejune, and every object we purchase has a sweet place in the room. i don't feel marooned on your kitchen island, panic-stricken and searching for my little spoon. i'll festoon your figure with turquoise and kisses, tinsel and licks, ash and cigs, as you moon me and giggle about how that sight will make me owe you a grand soon. together we can watch classic cartoons, listen to everything from metal to folky tunes.

neither form of lust is deadly, not even a shade of a sin. besides, i'm kissing an angel - god's got no choice but to grin.

[heathandsugizost]

https://twitter.com/SUGIZOofficial/status/1170823264785948672?s=19 #Repost @sugizo_official • • • • • • GUNDAM 40TH FES. 「LIVE-BEYOND」。 台風15号上陸直前に無事終了しました。本当にありがとうございました。 この40年間、ガンダムが残してきた偉大な業績と、何よりも富野監督を始めとした全ての製作陣の方々のその不屈の精神と愛情に心から敬意を表します。 本フェスにLUNA SEAとして、そしてBiSHゲストとして参加できたことを心から光栄に思います。 40th year、まだまだ続きます。ガンダムのこれからに、その未来に期待しかありません。 #LIVEBEYOND #BiSH #LUNASEA https://www.instagram.com/p/B2LVDGCJkOY/?igshid=1e8bsjdjfoz33

[adventureprescription]

After the daily afternoon thunderstorm came the reprieve of a cold but beautiful #sunset. Shooting timelapse photography was one of my main goals during the #windriverproject and it was always complicated by very dynamic weather! This was part of a 2 week #climbing expedition to the #windriverrange to explore new routes as an all-T1D team consisting of @blakemccordphoto @peachyspohn and myself. We all had slightly different experiences of the challenge and some close shaves; but it was worth the effort! (Watch the 🎥 linked in my bio) #type1diabetes #beyondtype1 #livebeyond

[shutupandrun]

Rolling deep to the @beyondtype1 Bike Beyond Kick Off! A team of Type One cyclists bike across the USA this summer to raise awareness & #livebeyond.

[cyanidemind]

am i still the right person

[Friday, May 7th, 2021. 2:23 a.m.]

am i still the right person? maybe not, since now i trot around the block trying to fight any version of you and your weeks and months and silence. i hang a left on curson, pray for violence, get no bites. sometimes i think, fuck this, and drink myself into a stupor, eat too many fries, idly browse for flights to fly in women for a night. i don't stab myself anymore - i'm a trooper. sometimes i cry because you weren't a straight shooter, and even though it was the wrong time you couldn't tell me otherwise, couldn't treat me much crueler. eventually, soon i hope, you'll fade like dusk as evening creeps, you'll stop inhabiting my arms as i sleep, you'll flee from my words like i'm a wolf hunting sheep, you'll abandon your family and pack up and leave, you'll be a distant dove i was half fortunate to meet. i take nothing back - i'll remain spicy, i'll still cook tuscan chicken, i'll remember your icy eyes, i'll always stop and listen, i'll pretend i was the right one like you said. i'll pretend i'm the one in your photos clutching your waist instead. i'll pretend every empty morning is that way because you stealthily left bed to make a cup of coffee and lightly toast your bread. i'll pretend to love you until the facade is shed.

[cyanidemind]

the big apple of your eye

[Friday, February 26th, 2021. 8:00 p.m.]

if you're nudged awake by traffic horns ignore the judging birds of dawn. don't rush to the subway to stand and yawn with strangers who won't budge when you bump shoulders, who maybe quick to anger at cumbersome mothers in curls and rollers pushing baby strollers. don't let the train's hot breath dampen your hair to your neck, cling and cloy the stink to your head. stumble into a sweet soft morning instead: piping coffee, skyline views, typing details, local news, smiling neighbors, hotdog vendors, lost tourist, library rentals.

take a walk for polish food, for hare and hunter's stew. sit alone at a table for two, devise an outline, think it through. against the odds it happened, turning from the crowd to the few: there are millions in manhattan, but in truth, only one you.

[cyanidemind]

angele’s ashes

[Tuesday, May 4th, 2021. 8:00 p.m.]

(no time for neurotic fits amid semi-erotic polaroid shoots - if 5 feet of 'tude fit snug into leather boots, i shudder to think what scorn and fury could do.)

these cigarettes are flicked until the filters are well-lipped, until fingertips are kitty-licked, until it's summer again and ripe for a backyard picnic.

i suppose all the seldom snowlit skin has to see the sun sometimes to stay sleek as unchiseled marble. but no renaissance man or painter, no architect nor engraver, could craft her with fewer flaws.

i am not religious, but i'll be damned if nature and god didn't kiss when they decided that this, this seraph gifted blood and pulse, must be human, and not the embodiment of bliss.

the world is small; if i recall, i saw her eyes before, as freshly rained-on moss on the slick bark of some toppled oak i stumbled across in a downpour on rural poconos forest floor.

as a poor man scribbling poor words on discarded notebook strips, i'm fortunate to be enriched by such an iridescent muse as this.

[cyanidemind]

where’s it all go?

[Tuesday, December 15th, 2020. 10:48 p.m.]

i know i won't get some things back, like cold snap. it's a snowy book, now in norway, never to be nosed over by anika.

(i can't retract my words.)

a blurred memory of how i started to say hey-hey, subconsciously modeling lisbeth salander. still struggling to understand einhander, one of our favorite games from our hey-day. no more showy feathers from jay-jay, technicolor and reflective, teasing our cats' nostrils. nor those shark teeth fossils, lost to time. the dark peace of an apostle is gone, too, and no matter how hard i try, every prayer i utter is a scoff, a dismissal and a lie.

i know i won't get some things back, like nights spent with ant. 7 foot pool table, ta-ta's, all four front teeth. time is nothing but scant.

just another evening rant cleverly disguised as art. just another deepening gash in an already ribboned heart.