Verbal Picasso

Ask me, just ask me. Ask me, "what's your favourite song till this day?"

Tell you, I'll tell you.

My dear we're slow dancing in a burning room

Was there any competition? Not in my eyes no, even the title just fills me up. Slow dancing in a burning room. Doesn't have to say much, the track name says it all.

My dear we're, slow dancing in a burning room

Get the fucking gum out. Now I'm ready. "You fuckin' Picasso."


I think what sparked this gut wrenching desire was this clip I saw not too long ago. I saw lust, drive, desire, hunger, deep. It was deep. I felt it, and it created this deep desire, this deep longing to experience a lost art. I could see myself filming it, bites all over, nibbling on ears, rolled eyes, deep drawn breaths, dripping wet we'll be. Dripping wet she'll be.

Lips locked, tongues wagging, salivate honey salivate.

It's my homecoming, this is my home he said, when we reached there. It was my home indeed, and I don't plan on leaving. Not too soon at least. Cause I feel at home here. Cause it's my homecoming.

These few days has created outbursts I have been controlling for a while. I guess the sight and sounds of people squirming and yucking has finally gotten the better of me.

On a much lighter note, it's been a pretty eventful week or two of recapping some things I've experienced a while ago. It's been full of snippets, little things that I remember, be it quotes or sights. And it was kind of nice in a way, cause it's full of unbelievable stuff.
It's also been a week of self-actualizations. Not like epiphanies, but more on a broader consensus.

This doesn't feel right though honestly, something's lacking. Maybe it's too many interruptions.

Would you believe, if I had told you
I woke up one night and saw a green moon staring right at my face outside my window,
moon so big it was covering my entire view of the sky.

Would you believe, if I had told you,
I'd love to have you here now on my dream machine
with you looking at me, while I'm working.
Just laying there, looking at me work on my word art
before I finish up what I have here,
to work on the work of art lying on my bed that is you.
Cause you're a masterpiece.
I'm just the curator that enjoys it personally.

We've all got deep desires in us, I'm/you're no different.