Have you ever felt your entire being with someone else’s, feel as if you were two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly? When any inch of skin touched theirs, you felt the heat and electricity run through the both of you. Connecting. Attaching. Creating. Forming. A bond made that nothing in the entire universe can truly do to take it away from either of you. It’s a feeling no one can describe exactly the same, or feel the same. Some may fade, some may flourish. At the end of the day the connection doesn’t go away, it doesn’t float off into the realms of forgotten things. It stays. Some live never knowing this feeling. Some are too numb to appreciate anything of the sort. Some wake up, eventually smell the flowers, eventually experience. This is something that everyone can crave, and need. The way it feels to know you’re perfectly in rhythm with another body. That whatever happens next is either going to be a surprise, a laugh, a comfortable motion. To trust another body with yours, to allow it power to please and displease, but to truly trust. It’s more than a simple touch, a simple let go of desire and need for sexual pleasure; it’s making love. Not everyone discovers what it feels like, and others get a chance to experience it with more than one person. It’s an art, it’s a way of being free, it’s a way of knowing yourself and another person. When you want to shed tears for the emotions that can come, and let all your insecurities out to this person. Nothing can break this except for the bodies that possess this connection. The bodies that can live or die together, fitting together as a picture instead of two puzzle pieces.
She will inspire and she will let any other soul know, that they should express themselves.
She’ll tell them not to be afraid, to let themselves go, let the brainwash go.
Born into a time where anything but what’s naturally here is important, she scoffs at it.
There’s home without a house, there’s food without a restaurant, there’s life without humans.
She saw life for more than what anyone else could ever possibly see it.
Or maybe she just felt alone, like there isn’t anyone else who thinks like her.
But maybe there is.
Just drew this. I can’t tell if it’s beautiful or completely demented. Maybe both.
A piece of art work I did with drawing chalk just now. After I cried hysterically for an hour thinking of the bullshit I’m going through right now. To me this piece means anger as it comes from the blackness, and at the same time there is a face looking the other way looking worried as its getting swept into the darkness. I had no idea what I was drawing when I started, but I’m more than in love with what the outcome is. It’s probably one of my most powerful pieces of art.
My new sketch. (: