These Hollywood nights are long The city filled with thousands of souls All of us together yet alone The green and white neon outside my window burns intrusively bright Adding to my restlessness in an unforgiving summer heat I imagine this is what Hell feels like All sweat, restlessness, longing, and need The fan whirls and clicks in the corner of the room Impotent in its efforts to bring relief
I stare at soot-stained walls remembering You are mine and I am yours Though we are neither You haunt my dreams The smell of you The taste of you The dancing electricity of your skin against mine The spark of us igniting together I submerge into the memory of us Distracting myself from the oppression of a city that welcomes no one
I see your silhouette leaning over me when I close my eyes I feel the softness of your lips and the heat of your breath I shiver as goosebumps rise on my too hot skin I can almost feel your hands on my body And the ghost of your lust-heavy voice whispering in my ear I let out an inaudible gasp as rivulets of sweat run races along my throat Reminding me of your fingertips
Sirens suddenly erupt from the street The walls now the stage for the dance of red and blue strobes Reality returns with its harsh shadows and sharp light Razor-edged voices rise up from the sidewalk Flavoring the oppressive night with desperation and power struggles I take a drag off my joint in an attempt to increase the space between me and the world I hold the smoke in my lungs for as long as I can Praying that when I release it that I can float away from this existence with it Back to the place where you held me close in a cool, comforting illusion of love
Do you see me?
I’m here!
Over here!
Please look my way.
Right now, if you will.
I need to be seen.
Am I loud enough?
Am I bouncy enough?
Am I doing enough to draw you into me?
I need to be reminded I am important to someone.
To you.
Right now.
My inner child is screaming for recognition.
Just acknowledge me and I promise I will relax.
That feels good.
Thank you.
Wait.
How about a little more?
Wait, don’t go back to what you were doing.
I still crave your attention.
I still am desperate for validation.
I still need.
I still need.
I still need…
-gws
The artist moon is calling
The one that makes the blood restless
And the mind discontent
The one that replaces sleep
With lightning storms of inspiration
The moon raises the spirit of dreams unrealized
And fantasies unlived
It whispers of wild woods and scented winds
Of primal needs and elaborate, lucid dreams
I am held captive in the moon's tides
Ebbing and flowing as I map my own constellations in its sky
And so my mind churns
My pen moves
Channeling the lightning into art
Painting the moon's energy with barely adequate words
In a desperate attempt to contain the results of its demanding influence
-gws
Words Wishes and Wisdom 