Smile. Wave. Pose. Compliment.
The cycle of perception crafted when my life is a deception.
Keep it together.
One like is good enough, it's acceptable because it means you're accepted.
It’s not enough.
Yes, it’s enough, be proud of the image, be proud of the persona.
It’s never enough, in the percentage and calculation of social management,
In the fine line between reality and presentation.
Who is crafted becomes the obsession of a life so managed for those viewing it and loving it.
The affliction of lust, boils the blood intimately. Driving skin to crave warm caresses, and dive in the decadence of soiled sheets.
The pleasure of innocence lost, and knowledge at the climax. Perhaps it’s a study session in climaxes. There is intricacy in connection at the apex of smooth thighs, or decibels of pleasure ridden cries.
Smut dripping smiles, that beckon the weary to experience a physical inquiry. One that rides, and dines in all the right places leaving sticky faces.
The mess of lust is a market of fine dining, and workouts that leave us all breathless. Riddled with intensity or laughter, or hushed words of love in the middle.
The things said during the dance of sweaty bodies, the ones that leave the mind curious if there’s more beyond the decadence of touches and thrusts. Unaware that even here there is no trust.
The sheets don’t hold promises, only the mess of quick orgasms and unsatisfaction. The pillow talk, mindless in its abandoned insertions of the faces never staying long. The truth of intimacy is not a place to belong when the soul is searching for love on the wrong tongue.
- Lost in you, Jade 🌵
We don’t know who we are anymore.
We were lost in the sea. No lost on land.
This is the cost we must pay, despite the fact we did not run up this tab. We were never here to destroy the world that we live in. Instead just born into the corrupt environment that they blame us for. This is why we are lost. What can we give of ourselves when we are too busy fixing the mistakes of those before us. How can we identify when the world cries. How can we prove our worth as a generation. We are healing the scars of generations but it is a slow journey. We are seeking the knowledge abandoned by the mighty white conquerors but much is lost. We are creating a place safer for the fluctuating definition of what life means to us, but it is met by cruelty. So yes we are lost, but not by our doing. We are trapped in the cycle of fixing and fixing. Taking what messes they that came before us made and making miracles. Reshaping the complexity and uniqueness of humanity. Voicing the history of those forgotten. Understanding each other better. We take care of you, we save you, we protect you. Still we are lost only guided by bitterness, fear, and judgement from the mess makers before us.
Still we are lost, the me among the rest of the Millennials. Lost fixing and being the best of ourselves under the weight of generations. ~ Jade 🌵