for a couple of hours last night, i watched you sleep. aside from your natural beauty, you looked so peaceful and content; i couldn't keep my eyes off you. the more i observed your facial expressions and breathing patterns, the less tired i became. as quickly as the desire to be closer arose, i carefully crawled into bed, trying not to disturb you.

you allowed a quiet moan to escape your luscious lips as you slowly rolled over. the relaxingly floral fragrance of your silken hair enveloped my sense of smell like an intoxicating mist of desire. i began to think of all of those important little things that matter the most, like where i end and where you begin.

suddenly an alarm went off and i decided it was time to let my intentions be known. i whispered my truths to you, and in your sleep, you softly told me your darkest secrets. there were moments that time stood so still, it was as if we were weaving together patterns in a lucid dream.

while the recollection of my insomnia washed over me, i asked you to join me as i opened up my eyes. something about another five minutes slipped out from between your irresistible lips. as much as i wanted to fall asleep and see where that dream might have gone, i couldn't, and you were just not ready to wake up...

if smoke follows beauty, but trails off fire, where exactly does that leave us...¿


dedicated to the 'me' in all of you.


i was recently thinking of the expression, "smoke follows beauty," and it really got me thinking all sorts of shit. i hadn't heard those words together in that sequence for quite a while now; it had slipped my mind for many a year. you see, i cannot seem to ever escape smoke once it has found me. it doesn't matter if i'm at a campfire, near lit incense or someone smoking a cigarette, the smoke gravitates towards me. i'll try to move out of its way, try to trick it, so to speak, almost like a game, but before i know it, i'm trying to move again, and again, only i never seem to win.

being the over analytical gemini that i am, i begin to consider where smoke comes from, fire. ok now, fire burns, we all know that. whatever the hell it is that's burning turns into ash, and the remnants float away as smoke towards someone good looking, like me. so now i'm thinking that ash is the waste of the fire product, so smoke must be the purity, right? or do i have that completely backwards? nah, waste is always what's left behind after the blood has been sucked dry.

smoke could also be looked at as a byproduct. i mean, take a fireplace log, for example. its main purpose is to fuel the flame. once the fire's drained the bark and pulp fully, it leaves an ashy carcass that has no chance of a purpose any longer. the smoke, on the other hand, is just something that happens when you introduce fire to wood.

suddenly my sanity shifts in a different direction altogether and i start reminiscing on old flames. the flood of thought that saturates my mind causes me to gasp. i am reminded of a relationship that resembled that way fire and gasoline get along together. the flame inhales the petrol with oxygen, as it exhales heat and smoke, until nothing is left, and then it suffocates. i'm not sure who was what, but i do know that the hot ones always seem to burn in the end.

so, all things considered, i believe i am finally ready to answer my question. if smoke follows beauty, but trails off fire, where exactly does that leave us? smoke leaves the fire to come to us, so we must be pretty fucking hot! good thing i want to be cremated instead of buried. actually, i'm sort of glad i didn't remember that expression any earlier than now; i have probably saved my ego quite a strain over the years...


p.s. quit wearing synthetic clothing, as it will only stick to your skin, should you ever spontaneously combust...

for a couple of hours last night, i watched you sleep. aside from your natural beauty, you looked so peaceful and content; i couldn't keep my eyes off you. the more i observed your facial expressions and breathing patterns, the less tired i became. as quickly as the desire to be closer arose, i carefully crawled into bed, trying not to disturb you.

you allowed a quiet moan to escape your luscious lips as you slowly rolled over. the relaxingly floral fragrance of your silken hair enveloped my sense of smell like an intoxicating mist of desire. i began to think of all of those important little things that matter the most, like where i end and where you begin.

suddenly an alarm went off and i decided it was time to let my intentions be known. i whispered my truths to you, and in your sleep, you softly told me your darkest secrets. there were moments that time stood so still, it was as if we were weaving together patterns in a lucid dream.

while the recollection of my insomnia washed over me, i asked you to join me as i opened up my eyes. something about another five minutes slipped out from between your irresistible lips. as much as i wanted to fall asleep and see where that dream might have gone, i couldn't, and you were just not ready to wake up...