Anatidaephobic Anonymous

Extreme Fashion.

What does it mean,
If you’ve no one to give to?
You never have no one,
You’ve always got yourself.

What does it mean,
to give to yourself?
Why is it so meaningless,
Without another face?

A defense against death,
The gifts you give,
Of posessions,
Of yourself,
Of love,
Are memories,
In another mind,
Written on failing parchment,
In disappearing ink.

You are immortal now,
And how do things change?
Immortality is yet another death,
After the stars grow cold,
You still remain,
Memories of you,
Trapped eternal,
Inside your own mind.

What is this, life?
Why are we offered hope,
False and unrepentant.
In the end, what is this,
This life?

Perhaps that is the problem,
“in the end”,
Because the end… isn’t,
The now,
Right now,
Is the end,
That justifies the means.

Time is not an arrow,
Straight and narrow,
Time is the very now,
This lingering instant,
Time is the distance,
Between the you who are you,
And the you who are me.

Live right now,
Today,
Live this one moment,
As if it were your last.
Because this one moment,
Is all you ever were,
And all you ever will be,
And all you’ll ever have.

I love your temper.
Not to disparage, not to mock.
I love your temper.
Your eyes; vessles of fire,
Your rage;
an earthquake,
a lightning strike.

I love your temper.
You terrify me,
You thrill me,
Your passion; inferno.

I love your temper.
When you stormed out,
you waited for me,
across the street.
You knew I would follow.
You knew what I would do.

Your anger;
blast the world to ash,
the ground trembles,
ember firefles kiss the sky.
I love your temper.

I will ever follow,
Passion in delight,
Passion in rage,
Dangerous power,
Between you and me,
A match made in heaven,
I love your temper.

You captivate me,
Friction between us,
Heat flowing in waves,
Kiss me in the sparklight.
Kiss me through your rage.
I love your temper.
I love your passion.
I love you.

Wish you were here…

Absolutely beautiful panoramics of Burning Man!