Questioning Butterlfies

Let him be the first...

That you tell how you feel, honestly and completely... the sweet and the salty...

A number have wanted to hear you speak that freely, from a place they believe exists within you and they admire, are astonished by, fantasize about...

It is something each of them, directly, indirectly, wishingly and/or needingly sought/seek from you... a confirmation, a correction, an acknowledgement, an expression of...

That...

That culmination of your beauties, that sounding of your intentions grander than themselves, that display of your alluring mysteries, that momentum of your irresistiblities...

That unpronouncable word pronounced only by a bookay of emotions blooming in sync...

That familar song only heard in the vacuum of one’s chest that was once occupied by the air that pressure sealed my vulnerability, cadenced by the upbeat rythm my heart is now beating as i am faced to admit how you’ve captured me...

That unearthly draw, as though my purest joy is now a body of water that i bathe in, fearless of its endless depths, awaiting day to turn night to day - but not for the apppeal of the sun of the colors of the sky... but for the movement of, the tiding of my joys - atuned to your gravitaional pull on my world...

My...

I mean, Their...

I should stop while I am ahead. But know, there is more to the point.

-Pati3ntWo1f (07202020)

Beauty of Bubbles

I’m feeling as though I need to be brutally honest. Not with the intent to be brutal... and I don’t want to over-rotate, but... to be honest to the point of risk... and then into risk. Because without the risk, there is no - ... no highs, just minor swells of in-between. Like there are still lows - No risk and still Lows - but the highs...? I mean, maybe occasionally... short-lived. When we do and don't know how.. its like when two distinct complex patterns momentarily synchronize - or seemingly so. Empty bliss... enjoyably empty gestures... the beauty of bubbles. We float - mystifyingly so - reflecting the world as it is not. Empty and fragile... to burst with no pieces to collect and build again, ... just gone. Because our film was so thin, lacked substance, weight... lacked the consistency of that which comes with risk. The beauty of bubbles... the effortlessness, the carefree, the whim... the ability to disappear... due to a consistency made to wash clean. Because what you risk... sticks and gums and clings and spills and soils and stains, has substance and mixture and composition, leaves residue - evidence it was there, of it’s presence... of attempt... to be something... more than - ? ... beauty of bubbles.

-Pati3ntWo1f (11012019)

Be my E

Be my ecstasy

Quicken the pace of my heart

Lightly dress confidence over my vulnerability

Just enough

Lead me to get lost

In the sensation of your touch

Timeless these moments

Ours

Tempt me to obsess, ensensed

How gooooood you feel against my skin

Every sound you make

A cascading serenade

With my heart, my thoughts, my body

I dance

Swayed by you

-Pati3ntWo1f

Follow me to you

“Feels great to step back from the moment and see yourself and how breath-taking you've become. I am priveleged that my attempts have reached u,through the fog and chatter; and that u let me lead u to my view point - from where I look upon all that is you. Any awe is not my doing. My credit is only leading you. The view, my view, what has inpspired each word of mine that has moved you to feel and question (in disbelief) how i could see, feel, speak into you as such... is solely you... your doing... your being.”

-Pati3ntWo1f

Be You!!! Astoundingly, bountifully, compassionately, distinguishingly, energetically, fluidly, gratefully, heiressesly, instinctually, jubilantly, knowingly, lavishly, momentously, naughtily, optimistically, purposefully, qualitatively, reverently, saturatingly, thoroughly, unequivocally, vibrantly, wholely, x-marks-the-spot-ingly, zestfully, You!!!

-Pati3ntWo1f (091520)

So even-though it is torture, because my dream cannot be completed... i will do it anyway, because the dream is worth enough, worth the pain and burden of never being fulfilled... and those few moments - although incomplete - are so enriching and magical. If i am left to only feel partially and woefully, then so be it, because i cannot deny my desire to feel. I’ll be the sad story and tragic ending that troubled souls cure their moments of loneliness in, when they hear it or see it. I’ll be the warning of what to avoid and how lifeless and bleek things can really get. I’ll be the bottomless abyss, the void, the emptyness and hopeless and romantically make them my home... and the opaque that, by contrast, gives the heroic, redemptive, compassionate, enduring, triumphant, joyful, desirable, fulfilling, optimistic, happy-ending stories their array of emotional fragrance, their textures of enjoyability, their sweet palpability and enticement - their thrill, their signs of life and worth living.

- pati3ntwo1f (091120)

My Pleasure, My Joy

Experiencing you is my Pleasure

Pleasuring you is my Joy

I wanna feel what else you can do to me... and return the sensation 3 fold

I wanna lose track of time and space and being,by being with you... and just become something else, together

I want your heart beating against mine; your lips amidst my own; your arms and legs enveloping me; your ass in my hands...

Your passion riding the tip of my tongue; your imagination balancing on the tips of my fingers, awaiting your command... I wanna be inside your endless intimacy

I want Lust to flow freely, but have no taste, because greater emotions overwhelm our palate

Mmmm... gimme you, please

I wanna incite a confirmation for each thought i have ever thought of you... via your undressing kiss, your clutching hold, your magnetic intensity, and/or your sensual whisper

I wanna learn you in ways you didn’t know you can be learned... and purposefully exploit that knowledge for your agreed benefit

I want our intimacy to be the ultimate antidote against anything this life can bring... and be the only elixer i get drunken off of... and be as spectacularly nourishable as miracles of multiplying fish and bread... and as promising as a land of milk and honey

-Pati3ntWo1f (11262019)

you don't need a nickname. your presence is such that those who hear of you already know whom the person speaking is referring to... somehow, it just comes off differently from the speaker. an inability to filter the aura you permiate - thus since energy is neither created nor destroyed, the speaker simply holds your aura's energy (weightlessly) until it is transferred with their chosen medium after being queued to release by their thought of you and whatever they desire to communicate on such related subjects.

-Pati3ntWo1f (111820)

To the present day “Joanna”s:

On behalf of those with your ear and not your attention; towards the benefit of those with your attention and its spoils; for your health and happiness; because of our unheard desires: see thyself as those with your ear do -beautifully badass. Let not your heart wander so far as you to forget that... for those with your ear turn to whispers the farther away you drift, and those whose possess your attention are not promised to be attentive.

Don’t lose sight of yourself; nobody in this world is worth you losing your shit. There’s no reason to act jealous, be possessive, and allow yourself to become sad and desperate. If someone doesn’t like you, who fucking cares? Find one who does. If your significant other makes you feel like shit — they’re fucking shit — bury them in a sandbox, forget about ‘em, and move on. Don’t be like Joanna of Castile. Don’t ruin your life and your reputation with insecure obsession . . . Born in 1479, Joanna (Spanish spelling, “Juana”) was the third child of Queen Isabella of Castile and King Ferdinand II of Aragon. But this royal privilege didn’t stop her from working hard to improve herself. As a young woman, she spoke six languages, excelled in religious studies, was active in equestrian sports, played music, and could dance with the best of them. Plain and simple, Joanna was a fucking badass. She was smart AND beautiful; this obviously attracted the attention of men. And, in 1496, she married Philip of Habsburg, also known as “Philip the Handsome.” Seriously, the dude’s nickname was PHILIP THE HANDSOME — are you fucking kidding me? He must have looked like Idris Elba and Ryan Gosling had a baby the height of Dwayne The Rock Johnson. My point, even Philip’s handsome ass wasn’t worth “losing it." But, Joanna couldn’t resist, she let her imagination get the best of her and became paranoid that he was going to cheat. Her insecurities intensified and her mental instability grew evermore apparent around the kingdom. She was like a fucking vulture, constantly swarming over Philip, checking his iPhone, and demanding his email passwords. Needless to say, it was sad to watch. She was once such a smart, intelligent, confident woman. Not even Philip’s surprise death in 1506 quelled her insecurities. She wouldn’t allow nuns to approach his corpse before his burial — afraid he’d put his ghost boner in one of them. In the end, Joanna of Castile became known as “Joanna the Mad,” leaving behind a reputation of being pathetically jealous, instead of beautifully badass. Well, you just learned some fucking history. You’re welcome. Now, enjoy your Sunday, you beautiful idiots. #SUNDAYSCHOOL

900 words

I see - easily - 900 of the thousand words a photo is worth

And each one is a word of praise

To your effort and success

To your intent and vulnerability

To your compassion and critique

To your honest expression

To your physical beauty

To your mental wonderland

To your spiritual depths

To your loving heights

A pic is worth 1000 words…

And a 900 of mine are expressions of why I love you!

-pati3ntwo1f (012625)