Quotes for Quenching – Down the Line

A man’s face is his autobiography. A woman’s face is her work of fiction. – Oscar Wilde

What do you feel has changed about me from the start?

It is the nature of exploring what is and can be – We go where our loves take us, and end up knowing the full ramifications in retrospect; bound to go that deep as you say, is in every way a mystery. I will do things that I’ve never done, all in search of what I am becoming.

And what is that hanging off of your gaze there?
You seem to have yourself blue with bated breath,
For what flower are you waiting to bloom?
Is it the Day Lily? Such patience and restraint it takes,
To wait seasons to hold it from its first morning to its last evening.

Do you remember your own smile?
No, I know you can’t take it in like another can.
You see it in the pictures they take, and in others when they glow,
but you don’t know it like us
It is that smile that convinced me I shouldn’t stop.
Let me describe it now, I will find the right words.
Well the light, the shine: Rich as Croesus
I will stop

I… I seem to be barren right now.
I can’t actually recall your smile – I guess I bore false witness

I’m fearful I can’t bury what I’ve done, that a mind really can be cracked and poured into the world of dreams, from where it can never be entirely recollected like an egg emptied into a body of water. The question prodding is why would you ever empty an egg into a body of water? I guess just to see what might happen, only the mind is of more consequence than the egg.

I wanted to take you with me, I wanted to stay and lay again into sleep and wake up to you hitting me because I snore too loudly at times; I wanted to laugh and have it all again from morning until night; A never ending life just for a time – but a good cry was enough, and then I knew I had to get on.

The primifluous strokes aren’t always the greatest,
but after such a hiatus they always feel the best.
On second hand, the opening wine should always be the best,
Later on they forget about the rest.

I guess some of us just require more risk to feel comfortable.

I Can’t Feel My Face

You see she likes the danger, the chemical cocktail endorphin rush – Now I won’t pin these things I’ve dreamed up on her – I’m my own man; but if there was something that needed burning, I knew she wouldn’t mind being kept warm. Maybe I put on a little much, maybe I held her throat in my palm with my passion boiling over, but she liked the way the hot wax made her jump. If you can catalyze someone’s soul right out of their bones into their own arms, where they can burnish themselves, and look upon the moment divinely – Perhaps a little too hungry; Is your primal acumen following? – You do it with alacrity and watch their ebullience do anything but desiccate

Maybe I’m saying too much on this. For you? No, this isn’t for you at all dear.

You ever seen a woman hold fire in her hands? I have.



Wisdom of Woja

You know how they say, “If you love someone, set them free?”
It’s like a more polite way of saying, “Shut the fuck up, and move on!”
– To Himself, Wisdom of Woja

And you might feel a shutter from the bluntness,
but in the end it’s edging you onto your next high.
How long do you want to remain low?
By all means take your time with the process and all,
but I assure you as true as the blooms will return,
So will your joy – If you choose to nourish it.

Feed that urge, feed that spirit,
that love within you is hungry,
don’t you starve it now

The letter – Don’t Expect

The sun is high noon, beating down on his skin like a barrage of compliments from someone you haven’t seen in a while. He knew standing there too long would get him burnt, but he had reason to wait, more a feeling he couldn’t shake. He checked his phone for the time. One of the few nice days the year had seen so far, and on his mind was a place and time far from where he stood. He had spent a lot of his life waiting. He’d been wrestling with that concept now for a while. Why should any time in life be spent waiting? When the right time is near it will appear, he thought. We get so carried away, obsessing over what’s next. We could just relax and look at what’s now, then when what’s next is up, turn to it. For him the problem wasn’t waiting. It was wasting. He expected the best out of things. He saw no reason every moment couldn’t be everything it dreamed of being. Why every person couldn’t become more! He didn’t like to waste.

Yet here he was. Wasting. At least he was enjoying the sun. That was never a waste, however the fact could not be removed from his current situation; Again he was waiting. He noticed he had been checking his phone for the time incessantly. He was a dreamer. Maybe the king of wishful thinking. He could blame all those films. The ones about love and how things break down, but then through some sheer willful hearts and circumstance or luck, everything works out. Yeah they had watched a few of those. He was a romantic. He didn’t consider romanticizing a waste. It did waste a lot of his days though. He spent every other minute rearranging what he would say. He had to keep in mind that it wasn’t his choice. “I can’t make you love me,” he thought like Tank covered from Bonnie Raitt. I don’t want you to be “Somebody that I used to know,” like that silly Gotye song. He already knew the answer. He had felt it in the long days and lonelier nights. He knew she felt it too, but he wanted to give her space to find her happiness. It wasn’t his decision.

Shaping The Clay; Myself

I feel the best time to create is when you’re hungry; They call us starving artists: It’s actually quite ironic since they are the vapid ones starving for our minds – hungry; I’m being sarcastic. It’s sad how they smoke like an empty pot – All their money can’t afford them a meal as this; I put marks to any medium, and I am fed. How could I ever be hungry? I’m the creator; I pull my own fucking ribs out, birth my equals, and if I choose to, I swallow them whole and put them right back. I am not looking for your justice. I am not looking for your empathy. I am looking for the blood, sweat, and tears that give way to the culmination of an entire cold pressed life; At the end you will drink it – Not one drop will go to waste.

I’ve watched the soft way my tools begin to shape you
You don’t take the direct route – No, you choose patience.
You don’t appear immediately in the initial stray lines.
We take our entire evenings for these types of beauties.
Watch intuitive understanding slowly pull you out of nothing
I’ve had my eyes focused intently on your ripening form
I’m not sure what else I’ve noticed today,
aside from the subtleties that make you – You.
That soft desire, your fiery demeanor when I strike you up,
I press hard on the lead to accent it all with the right cuts.

Emotionally intelligent people fuck up too, and because they understand so much more – It can be said that they fuck up far worse. The thing is their gift never comes with just the ability to read the emotions of others and feel deeply the hearts of those around them – No, emotional intelligence is not developed and honed in that way – You are not born with such a soft quality. It requires consistent shattering, to learn from navigating one’s own fissures. Knowing of your own faults, so that you might not overlook them when relating with those you engage with, is key; Wading at the edges of the river is not enough; Only those who have drowned in their own depths truly understand the emotions.

You forget to pause when the river waters surge so rapidly,
It’s about breathing correctly and not allowing yourself to fall behind.
Clearly it’s all timing, but at a deeper level it is so much more.
You aren’t just in the right place at the time moving along at pace;
No you have to hit a full breath as you make the stroke across,
Followed by a hold at the top not too long, nor too brief;
Allowing preparation for your exhale and waving of your wrist.
It very much matters what your other hand is doing, in the case that only one holds the tool.
It must be relaxed – Not completely though – Everything must be relaxed.
You’re not forgetting to breath now, right? See, it’s hard to follow along here.
I still have things to learn. I know what it is I’m doing, but until I can teach you I’ve got things to learn

In this bed you will find everything you fear and love.
It just comes down to whether you will settle for less than you deserve;
If not then you must take to action, Since not settling requires effort.