let'sescaperealitytogether❤.

i do not feel any immense and fervent feelings
yet i somehow feel drawn to you,
should i be cursed and punished for how i feel?

i hate thinking
i despise wondering
i abhor meditating
i dislike deliberating
i detest reflecting
i execrate contemplating

[and here i go again,
sexually inspired; that's what i am.
but i speak the truth,
so i, jarrah lim, plead "not guilty"
when it comes to insanity.]

"your special," she whispered
and she left me thinking i was special.
that i was in control,

that i was certainly "the man"

it made me want to please her,
it made me give in,
it made me work harder, faster, stronger.
she spread her legs wide open,
she parted her lips wide open,
she dilated.

she pulled me in, like a magnetic force.
i was attracted and she pulled me in,
and i had no where to hide or run.
i was, trapped
and i was forced to surrender.

she let me in, that's the real problem.
my manhood could be abnormally big,
and she would still have the strength

to pull me in,
deeper
harder
and stronger.

her kisses, where more than just pecks.
her touch, was more than just fiddling.
her skin, was more than just soft.
her breasts, were more than just supple.
her lips, were more than just luscious.
her other lips, left me breathless.

she licked me, with a flick of her sensuous tongue.
she kissed me, with a part of her luscious lips.
she fucked me, with a twist of her lustful body.

"if you look closer, it's easy to trace
the tracks of my tears."

and each song is stuck on my iPod
on a playlist called

'things that remind me of you.'

i made a heart with my hands.

my soul is an empty carousel at sunset

just tell me something i don't know.

[ what you are about to read,
may confuse you,
startle you and who knows
for some of the kinky ones;
it'll excite you. enjoy. ]

oh and boy, do i see it as well. excellently shaped,
incredibly white as I did the only thing left to do,
i stop with the foreplay. i stop with the teasing.
no more occasional dips, my clothes are off
and all i want to do is dive in.
i catch my breath before i drown, and i take
a very long and deep breath before i start sinking in.
my teeth, my lips, my tongue; they're everywhere.
searching, looking for that extra bit of flavour.

but i have to stop,
there's always a limit to these things
and before i know it;
my breath smells of you, cappuccino.
my clothes stink of you, cappuccino.
my cum smells like; coffee.

"if only i had an enemy bigger than my apathy, i could have won."
Profile "home is wherever i'm with you." - Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros i have a habit of wandering, therefore i get lost a lot.
intensive innuendos. / Sunday, April 26, 2009 @ 10:51 PM this goes to you, whether you know it or not. i do not want you nor do i need you, but i wish to breathe you in and feel the lush of your lips sink into my own. i do not want you nor do i need you, but i wish to taste the sweetness held and concealed within the fragmentation of your figure. i do not want you nor do i need you, but i wish to hold you close to my deary breaking ill heart just so i can smell that musky scent that drives me nuts. it's you that i think of, not all the time but you consume most of my thoughts. your face, illuminates my dark and dirty thoughts. your voice, echoes the tunnel of my mind. your scent, stinks up my nasal vase. i do not feel any immense and fervent feelings yet i somehow feel drawn to you, should i be cursed and punished for how i feel? i was once before, feeling similar emotions, pointedly towards a boy who broke my heart. but this is different. i do not like you. i do not love you. i do not hate you. i hate thinking i despise wondering i abhor meditating i dislike deliberating i detest reflecting i execrate contemplating especially when all that's in my mind, is you and only you. i do not want you nor do i need you, and yet something inside me is screaming "DENIAL" lipless librarian. / Sunday, April 19, 2009 @ 3:43 PM [and here i go again, sexually inspired; that's what i am. but i speak the truth, so i, jarrah lim, plead "not guilty" when it comes to insanity.] i'm the man; or so she said. her demure facade. her polite smiles. her vulnerable side. her elegant nature. it all conceals what she truly is; a ravenous, sex crazed nymphomaniac. a stupendous, sexually obssessed woman. a deprived, vaginal beast. and she will only let me in; or so she stated. only i am man enough to enter her, to know every bit of her, to see through her, to swallow and taste her Holy Grail. i was more than man. i was a God who has been granted the taste, the feel, the touch of the divine perfection, the divine creation of the female genocide. "your special," she whispered and she left me thinking i was special. that i was in control, that i was certainly "the man" it made me want to please her, it made me give in, it made me work harder, faster, stronger. she spread her legs wide open, she parted her lips wide open, she dilated. "i work in a library," she had also mentioned. as stupid as it sounds, it was sexy. but i don't read books, it never interested me. the string of words and sentences; it just wasn't me. and yet, that very evening, i found myself opening the doors to the public library, not knowing what was waiting for me. instantly there was a smell of books and papers, the sound of people coughing and wheezing quietly, and yet only the sight of her caught me. she pulled me in, like a magnetic force. i was attracted and she pulled me in, and i had no where to hide or run. i was, trapped and i was forced to surrender. she let me in, that's the real problem. my manhood could be abnormally big, and she would still have the strength to pull me in, deeper harder and stronger. her kisses, oh her sweet kisses. she masqueraded, she paraded around with her sugar coated tongue when it came to entering my coffee stained mouth, which my dentist has always disapproved off. but now, i have cavities from all the sweetness and yet my molars have not ached. she is my drug, my antidote all in one. oh how fortunate i am to have come across such a wonderful woman. who penetrates me even when she has climaxed, just so i can get a feel of that euphoria. such a wonderful woman as she leads me on with that significant feminine hormonal fragrance like no other i have encountered before. her kisses, where more than just pecks. her touch, was more than just fiddling. her skin, was more than just soft. her breasts, were more than just supple. her lips, were more than just luscious. her other lips, left me breathless. even for a librarian, she had the best taste in fashion. with her Chanel black coat, and well designed Marc Jacobs dress i found it hard to believe she was a librarian. but then again who cares about the lie if it created such a beautiful illusion. her expensive and fashionable clothes, looked best where they landed. all rumpled up and disheveled. OH, that was art, i tell you. and my best work back in my younger days was a simple stickman on a wrinkly page. yet, i was able to create havoc on the floor with her clothes with just my hands. the art of undressing, never underestimate it. she licked me, with a flick of her sensuous tongue. she kissed me, with a part of her luscious lips. she fucked me, with a twist of her lustful body. but at the end of the night, at the end of all these, it leaves me thinking. the librarian, how i miss her, was a true seductress. she lied to me when she said "i was the man." because she was always the one in control, always the one who was in power, it was never me. but then again who cares about the lie if it created such a beautiful illusion. sublimal seduction. / Friday, April 17, 2009 @ 2:06 PM the cigar, the act of putting it in your mouth, the act of sucking the very end, the act of smoking it with diffusing puffs, the act of letting go, the cigar. the pill, the act of popping it in, the act of waiting in anticipation, the act of getting a good feel, the act of letting go, the pill. the cocktail, the act of sipping on it, the act of tasting the burn, the act of wincing from the bittersweet taste, the act of letting go, the cocktail. the sex, the act of two people undressing, the act of one's lips on another, the act of wondering hands, the act of going in, the sex. pageant parade. / Monday, April 13, 2009 @ 6:45 PM obssessed: "you're such a wreck, the cutest accident." addicted: "another night waiting for someone to take me home." possessed: "tell me i'm special, even though i know i'm not." convicted: "if you look closer, it's easy to trace the tracks of my tears." and each song is stuck on my iPod on a playlist called 'things that remind me of you.' / Friday, April 10, 2009 @ 11:26 PM lips locked. / Wednesday, April 8, 2009 @ 12:48 PM "the paper cuts, the cheating lovers." the kiss, unfinished; lips locked, twist and turn. meet the man; unperturbed, and inescapable are his charms as she is stuck in his muscled arms. jump, shake, shiver; go on but the desire has won, and nothing shall halt the hands form the basic fault. roam, foam and storm the clouds as the rain, drops one by one. "glistening in the cold sweat of guilt." their lips, understandable; as they reign one another. their hands, undress; the clothing concealed bodies. their fingers, unafraid; of caressing each others privates. their eyes, unbroken; from their closed gaze. their breath, uncanny; for their slow rhythms differ. their lust, undeniable; to the pair as they share each other. their movement, unaffected; by their surroundings and desires. "darling, i will keep you in my heart." false flattery. / Monday, April 6, 2009 @ 6:04 PM "your parents must be assholes, cause you are the shit." the pick up lines. "my dick just died, can i bury it in your ass?" the dirty jokes. "I didn’t have any body piercing until just now. You pierced my heart." the cheesy shit. "If you were a burger at McDonalds, You would be McGorgeous." the plain desperate. "A picture may tell a thousand words, but when I look at you, I only have three; I love you." the romantic facade. "I am sure that your big eyes, as when I kiss them, will then close with pride." the poetic phrases. "Tonight will be the night that I will fall for you." the lyrical loss. "Shut up, just shut up. You had me at hello." the visual lies. how will we ever know what's true? snowman sparrow. / @ 5:24 PM My father was a snowman, but he melted All that's left are his eyes [two pieces of coal] that sit on my kitchen table and watch me as I walk around the room. I ate his nose a long time ago. - sparrow paper plane. / @ 1:13 PM i made a heart with my hands. my soul is an empty carousel at sunset just tell me something i don't know. tittering titles. / @ 12:34 PM 1973, as we lay across the universe (middle of nowhere) it is nine in the afternoon, just you and me with a kiss from a rose; we are the center of attention. you hold me, thrill me, kiss me, kill me as you have the lips of an angel. you hold me like a microphone and i whisper, "your body is a wonderland." and all those nights, all those yesterdays, your love was a lie. you and your poker face, fooled me again. i don't care about your lips like morphine. remember me this way, as the broken man. i'm still learning to breathe in the city of devils. unsatisfied, i kissed a girl but you know i love you. "i want you to want me," the moment i said it, you left me, hopeless and unwanted. how many times, how many lies; it ends tonight. all hail the heartbreaker, and there you go again it's true when they say that lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off. i write sins not tragedies; thanks for the memories. cum cappuccino. / Wednesday, April 1, 2009 @ 5:29 PM [ what you are about to read, may confuse you, startle you and who knows for some of the kinky ones; it'll excite you. enjoy. ] a cup of cappuccino; that's what you are. the fragrance, the aroma, the scent fills my lungs. the container stands still as i take a stroll, balancing on the edges of the rim as the steam oozes up my spine; sending several shivers. it was intriguing, it was enticing, it was inviting. how can you disagree? neither scalding hot nor deep freeze, it was perfect in temperature. taking my chances from time to time i would occasionally have a dip, have a taste of what is beneath all those dark beans and foam. "MILK!" i call out, "I SMELL MILK" oh and boy, do i see it as well. excellently shaped, incredibly white as I did the only thing left to do, i stop with the foreplay. i stop with the teasing. no more occasional dips, my clothes are off and all i want to do is dive in. i catch my breath before i drown, and i take a very long and deep breath before i start sinking in. my teeth, my lips, my tongue; they're everywhere. searching, looking for that extra bit of flavour. i suck on hard as i find the source of the sweetness. the source of the foam, the milk, the foam. i bite, i gnaw, i suckle; and in turn the foam turns milkier, whiter...almost virgin-like. as if for the first time, the first taste is the most delicate thing it has ever felt, ever seen, ever smelt. spinning and twisting and swiveling, a mix of colours all rush together. a mix of scents all join together. milk, beans, foam; i taste all of you and i want more more more more. but i have to stop, there's always a limit to these things and before i know it; my breath smells of you, cappuccino. my clothes stink of you, cappuccino. my cum smells like; coffee. i've taken my swim a bit too far this time. oops. but i'm still hungry; why don't you come over and feed me this time? funny thing is: i don't even drink coffee
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