|__________________________________________Sleep_________________________________________|


* 12:20 AM and you are somewhere in here * noise of me pulling piles of your clothes apart, digging deep to find where you've burrowed *dog yawns and stretches* checking in cabinets to see if you've curled yourself into them * cat on shelf staring at me * staring at closet door afraid of the mountain of stuff that will leap out when i open it and bury me up to my neck *Christmas decorations, a 5 foot tall Easter bunny statue, hundreds of loose ping pong balls, several bead doorway curtains, entire ostrich's worth of feathers, headless teddy bears, boxes of jigsaw puzzles each the same photo each missing the same piece, 100s of almost empty jars of tempera paint, a teetering pile of W magazines and old Harper's Bazaars falling out, a 25 year collection of pencil stubs in multiple colors all with teeth marks and worn off erasers, a kitchen whisk, several empty vodka bottles uncapped, a flat cat, 311 unmatched socks, 201 flip flops all in size 2, three reams of computer printed bills all for someone neither of us knows airborne and filling the room * the dog watches with one eye open as a bill lands immediately in front of his muzzle on the floor, he snuffles and shuts his eye * sound of a very large group of marathon runners pounding down the street outside * i wade through the now knee deep ocean of stuff to check the bed * pulling and pulling at what appears to be a circus clown or magician's trick bed sheet that has no end and keeps changing colors every 4 yards * i still, and go quiet listening *dog snores* *cat purrs* *snuffling of a stopped up beautiful nose somewhere to the left * i stare at the windows *hmmmm* i wade toward the window * slowly and very quietly move the curtain to the side * you lay on the window ledge your fingers clutching your thighs * ahhh here you are my darling one * gently lift you in my arms and hold you so high in the air * stride through the flotsam of a dream life now rising to my chest *


* 12:37 AM and you are in my arms sleeping as i step from the ocean * walking in the dark night up the shore across the wet sand where clam's and crab's air holes briefly open and then fill and shut * you stir and your eyes move rapidly under their smooth finely etched eyelids * i stride on in the dark up the slopes toward the snow crests 25,000 feet away * my feet make small hushed crackling noises on the pine needles of the tall, thin stalked, southern pine forest leading up higher * your breath quickens and your lovely nose wrinkles at the heavy sweet smell of the pine sap on the trunks around us * you dream of cleaned places and air fresheners in repo cars * my feet seek footing independent of my mind as i begin the climb through the scree at the base of the high cliffs before me * my toes clench at rounded pebbles and gain purchase * i am almost 7 and one half feet tall now and you are held in my arms close to my mouth, my ears sharpened and keened to hear small things that you whisper to yourself and to your dream companions * my eyes shutter and open and shutter and open making an almost audible sound as eyelid edge engages eyelid edge * the talus begins to become finer until almost sand like and we enter a shadowed long crevasse leading up into the night sky * the clear sky filled with stars spinning at speeds that blur their orientations and glowing like white neon * i am 10 feet tall now and stride by large boulders at speeds approaching machinery fully engaged and powered by silence itself * you take my left nipple in your mouth and suckle in your sleep * stopping to gauge the next climb i am 50 feet tall and the air around us is moving so quickly that frost is forming on my bare skin * i curl my arms around you and you are warmed by my flesh * you sigh and pull at my skin like a blanket * at 75 feet tall i step lightly up the narrow edged facing fractures of the cliff side and the summit is in my sight * i step into the snow * at almost 6 feet i am thin and strong and smooth and fleet and my brow is furrowed with my concentration * the snow is soft and wet and under it i can feel the hard harsh rock formed from the core metals and minerals of our home planet * i breathe in deeply and contain the thin air * my mouth on yours and i fill your lungs with warm sweet thick moist air * ice layers my shoulders and microscopic icicles have formed on my eyelashes * beneath my feet the crusted snow crunches and i leave bright red footprints through the gleaming white star lit snow * the stars slow and resume their seemingly fixed positions but i know their secrets, how they dance together in blurring creaming melting speeds with heats unimaginable surrounded by the cold from lack of atomic movement that is my heart *


* 12:59 AM * SUMMIT * i hold you in my arms * my breathing is so rapid and heated that you perspire * my breath condenses outside of the heat bubble generated in my belly into grit sized snow showers from my waist to the ground * i watch you as you dream of silk in wide scarlet expanses moving with an unseen wind like a smoothly directionless ocean surface disturbed by deep slow sine wave currents * i love you


� Amanda 2011
Quote

Notice The Convulsed Orange Inch Of Moon
by e. e. cummings

notice the convulsed orange inch of moon
perching on this silver minute of evening.

We�ll choose the way to the forest�no offense
to you,white town whose spires softly dare.
Will take the houseless wisping rune
of road lazily carved on sharpening air.

Fields lying miraculous in violent silence

fill with microscopic whithering
�(that�s the Black People, ch�rie,
who live under stones.) Don�t be afraid

and we will pass the simple ugliness
of exact tombs,where a large road crosses
and all the people are minutely dead.

Then you will slowly kiss me
Quote

The Wander

�������������� 1. Easy Temptations����������������

Sleeping Together

Our blue eyes *blink* glowing and face to face
We lay together. Dawn rushing across this place.
Tongues tasting each other; wet crimson lips.
Hands upon each other; firm strong white hips.

Sleep again now, with me, little sister;
Soon enough days� rule will lose its blister.
Dancing, watching, singing, laughter, drinking;
What is our day again will end; eyes blinking.

The two girls, in torn and antique frillery, with wind tossed hair, stand on the street corner of East Kellogg Road. Its well after closing hour for the clubs and bars that populate the blocks further southwest; and the wealthier homes to the east of this block of Kellogg, where healthy wealthy people populate the slopes to higher, fresher air are dimly lit, only a twinkle. The streets in this neighborhood have no masses of tourists flowing and clotting on their sidewalks, and the local college students stay inside or drive to the other locations in the city for their fun and frolic.

As close to dawn as it is now there is only the pair of streetwalkers parked on the corner of this block. Both are tall and thin, and brunette; they�ve blue eyes that glimmer sleepily in the harsh orange halogen glare of the street lamp above them, where moths and other night insects flutter and race. They cling to each other with pale arms wrapped loosely around each other�s waists, side by side. Long skirts of their Victorian styled dresses whip in occasional gusts of early spring air. We hear the hissing of tires on wet freshly rain washed city asphalt. The headlights of an approaching sedan illuminate them in white, and the smaller of the two wipes her crimson lips across the back of her hand. Her sister drops her chin slightly and peers up between the curtaining falls of her hair at the vehicle. The sedan, its surface pimpled by the small beads of raindrops, standing firm and shining on the layer of wax recently applied to its forest green surface, pulls to the curb before them on the shadowy city street and its passenger side widow slides down. The shorter of the two girls slides her pink pointed tongue out and licks her lips; the taller girl squats on her heels, one hand upon the window opening on the door, her glossy black nails reflecting the orange light from above. She smiles revealing sharp white teeth, nodding her head and standing as the driver of the sedan leans over and opens the door for her. The smaller girl quickly moves into the passenger seat beside the driver, the taller shutting the door and moving at speed to open the rear door and slide onto the seat.

The rear red lights of the sedan plume and flair in red halos; the car rolls off quietly. We hear the quick sharp chuckling of a camp of bats as they swoop and dodge through the cloud of insects under the street lamp. The brake lights of the car burn brightly once, the car shudders as its tires squeal quickly, then again and the tires slip on the wet pavement. There is shadowed movement in the interior. The vehicle drifts into the oncoming empty lane of the street, and slows; then the driver�s side front tire thumps over the curb and the frame of the car scrapes loudly as it sparks and becomes motionless. Grey and white exhaust fumes drift in the air blurring the red glowing tail lamps. The car rocks on its suspension spring from side to side and then there is only the clicking and groaning of the engine idling as it puts pressure on the machine to force the stone stair stoop of the building before it to yield its space.

Looking out from the window of the three room apartment above the car, sixty eight year old daughter of Buchenwald survivor Rebeka Holtzer, Lizabet Holtzer, woken by the noise outside her one room, sleeping, living and work room apartment, stares down at the crashed vehicle shuddering against the large exterior stairway to the brown stone. The vehicle quiets, still running but now still; and suddenly the driver�s door is open, as is the front passenger door. She blinks her aged yet still sharp eyes once, and a young woman dressed in ancient seeming clothing is standing on the other side of the car, at the open passenger door, returning Lizabet�s stare. Lizabet blinks again and there is another woman in Victorian dress shoving a man�s body from the driver�s seat and crawling on all fours out the door and onto the body. Lisbet�s mouth open, her eyes opened wide as the girl on the body raises her head, looks up, with blood spattered all over her face, her mouth wide and dripping. Lisbet feels a scream building when in a blur of black the bloody faced girl moves across the vehicle seemingly effortlessly; she now stands with her partner on the far side of the stalling vehicle. The taller girl with the blood soaked face leans into her friends face and they kiss once, and the taller girl is gone in a blur across the street and into the alley that cuts through the block beside the small two story office building where her longtime friend Delores Santiago has her own one room apartment.

Thinking of Delores Lisbeth looks down to see the smaller girl still standing staring at her, the girl tilts her head to Lisbeth�s left, smiles softly at Lisbet, the blood from her kiss now a red smear on her lower face. The girl raises her right hand slowly, positioning it beside her cheek, and wiggles her fingers gaily at Lisbet; and, like her companion, is gone in a blur of motion into the alley, moving at a speed that reminds Lisbet of the tractor trailer that had smashed with such force, into the side of the car, that she driving, her husband, and her only daughter her passengers were in on their way to a summer visit to the beaches south of the city she lived in and loved. She shudders at the memory and a single tear makes its way down her deeply furrowed cheek. She reaches for the phone on the antique burled walnut table beside her, dialing Delores�s number by instinct.

We lay together, in the basement of the abandoned building that we had settled in some nights before, the room has but two entry points, two heavily locked doors leading out to two equally secured hallways, beneath street level, and located in the center basement mass of the building. No light ever reaches here now, no pale white mote of dust will ever sparkle in the sunlight that is now edging over the mountains to the East and turning the Western horizon sky, where the great Pacific lies in its slowly undulating wholeness bright pink and deep rose. Sailors aboard fishing trawlers far out in that huge expanse of loneliness would begin to batten their boats down, securing all that moves against the augured change in weather. We lay face to face our bodies reversed to each other. You, so deeply beautiful, with your sharp teeth and sense of wry humor, and I, older, and loving you, and the terror that you are, beyond a human�s ability to weigh or consider; your tongue slides out between your subtle but razor sharp canines and slides against my mouth, my chin, and then into my mouth. The taste of the blood and its swell in my belly is so hot and drives through us both. You laugh quietly and poot loudly. �He�s hard to digest isn�t he, so much alcohol in him� you whisper. I change my position with a simple series of gestures and our naked bodies are tight against each other, face to face, your lithe form full against mine and your hands busy between my legs. You make soft cooing noises and smile, blinking quiet blue eyes at mine and we drift together, into unconsciousness.

In our sleep we hear the city above us moving noisily about its day, the wave roar of the ocean not far away, the deep knocking noise of all of the beating, breathing, short lived occupants of its maze of box like structures; the sound of all of the animals hidden in its shadows and the creeping out of their moments; the almost silent, because of its loud volume, shrieking and thumping and screaming noise of the machinery the occupants have engineered over the long expanses of our time. We hear it all in our dreams as we rest together, our flesh joined tightly, soft yet locked hard at the same time. You nuzzle into the cleft of my neck and I sigh.

� Amanda 2011


Playlist The Wander

1. Easy Temptations
Sleeping together

Opening credits to Sliding into the Car
G Tom Mac ���.. Cry Little Sister

Looking out from the window to We lay together
Collide �����.. Razor Sharp

We lay together to End credits
Collide �����.. Dreams and Illusions

� Amanda 2011.

Quote

tell me, why you cry.
why do you smile,when so broken inside?
tell me why you're filled with such sorrow.
just remember that today is the beginning of your tomorrow.
tell me, why do you hurt?
and when you walk, why do you stare at the dirt.
is it because you are falling?
dont go into the darkness.
that is death who is calling.
how did it feel when he broke your heart?
to learn that he was going to hurt you,
from the very start.

I know it's not as good as the others here. I love all of your poetry but the important thing about poetry is it comes from the heart I decided to post one of mine ;) Quote

tell me, why you cry.
why do you smile,when so broken inside?
tell me why you're filled with such sorrow.
just remember that today is the beginning of your tomorrow.
tell me, why do you hurt?
and when you walk, why do you stare at the dirt.
is it because you are falling?
dont go into the darkness.
that is death who is calling.
how did it feel when he broke your heart?
to learn that he was going to hurt you,
from the very start.

I know it's not as good as the others here. I love all of your poetry but the important thing about poetry is it comes from the heart I decided to post one of mine ;)



it's wonderful.. never be bashful about posting pretty girl..

Quote

it's wonderful.. never be bashful about posting pretty girl..





Thank you so much! That means a lot to me coming from such an amazing poet. I read your poetry and it really does reach deep into the soul! I love poetry and I have for many years. I come from a broken family so poetry allowed me to get my feelings out I look forward to posting more on here and reading more of the wonderful art seen
~xoxo~ Quote

I have written a few on the frustration of being a screen away from Heaven.

Visage

I have searched for years for the visage I see now
on my screen and have to this day failed somehow
To find one that has even come close to yours
Beauty that now shines through to my core
And lightens my mood and erases my day
Only to have this computer keep me at bay
From feeling your breath quicken and moan
As we touch each other, our hands they roam
And suddenly we merge, one to another
Writhing together until we climax
gripping tight to each other Quote

Another frustration, after a Model told me she didn't think I would make her cum

Useless

It took just one second
For Reality to hit me
from your typed words
for me to see
But this is not true reality
it is a world of screens
where people never meet
but are only seen

So my charms are useless here
IN this Cyberspace world
My smile that melts your heart
and my eyes that gaze into yours
My hands, softly caressing your skin
My voice, as I kiss you neck
Whispering to you my deepest
passion without regret

Oh I would not turn you on
But we together would climb
to heights of passion we both
Had never been, intwined. Quote

Rue

If you like any of these I have many more I am willing to share. Some are more personal, but I see that you have a well tuned ear for the craft and I would love to share more.

These are works I wrote out of frustration. I have deeper, more personal pieces that I have crafted far more diligently.

Anyway I think this is a great thread. Thanks Quote

The Wander

�������������� 1. Easy Temptations����������������

Dreams of Hunts

We move together through the blurred grey glade.
Morning�s dew clinging, chilling, dripping damp,
Our legs shake, soaking, as wet as our mouths.

Their dark haired flesh rolling to either side,
Our horses snort, steam jets curling grey smoke.
All our prayers completed, now we�ve awoke.


�I am young and strong and still breathing; my pulse races as quickly as the meat of the horse between my legs shifts and slides and rises strong and hot between my thighs. The day is stunningly bright, the sun a white hot drop of melted steel just poured in the sand form for a blade with which to crush my Amaz�ne Queen�s enemies, and the wet salty water of my body flows fast and flies in a fine spray from my body in the wind that this ride is composed from. I lean further over my darling Abraxas�s neck my arm wrapped softly around the strong hot flesh there, feeling his thumping heart in the blood racing through the arteries. I whisper in my lovely Greek voice to him a prayer of desire taught to me by my strong willed mother when I was a child. �Speed of Wind join us my strong one, may you take wing with your hooves, find purchase where none is, take lead of your oikog�neia, become kentauros with your rider, be as one.� Hearing my voice my Abraxas snort�s steam from his nostrils and leaps ahead of the other riders. I ready my javelin feeling my long strong arm ready for the smooth motion of the kill.�

I wake instantly with my lover melded tightly to me, her mouth open and still softly nursing at my throat. Her hand, having driven me to orgasm when we fell to sleep, is now tightly gripping my thigh, her nails deeply embedded in my flesh there. She shudders as I slowly peel each finger from its hole in my flesh, and she moans removing her mouth from me with a final suck and lick. Her lovely blue eyes shine even brighter as she wakes, the red tint of the sleep blood surrounding her irises creating an amazing complimentary glow. She stretches and slowly bends up to a sitting position the bones of her back popping and finally upright she slowly rolls her neck and it too cracks loudly echoing from the cast concrete walls of our sleeping chamber. �Oh Aell�, I love you. What glamor will we wear tonight? I saw the most wonderful red dress in W magazine the other night; do you think we can cast it?� I laugh and wrap around her, feeling her skin like a soft cold silk, against me. My head propped up resting on the palm of my hand �Yes, I�ve tired of that goth scene, let�s do something more elegant tonight, I�d like to hunt in some different area and thin the wealthier ones. I�d like to find some other chamber as well, my dreams were of motion.�

The two women rise together, facing each other and looking, examining each other, their unique mutual grooming begins; lightly touching and feathering each other�s hair, sliding hands over skin, molding arms, and legs, caressing feet, hands, breasts, asses; touching each joint carefully; backs massaged and brushed by gesture, shoulders smoothed and kissed. Each bruise, scratch, bite mark and handprint carefully examined and swept away. The red Catherine Wright, off the shoulder, flowing skirt dress, unfurls and whips wild in the obsidian black room, Aell��s long strong hands waving the air and sculpting it and setting it in motion around her lover using twisting dancing narrow fingers. Her sister lover mate partner coos and spins as it takes shape a full echoing laugh springing from her. �Ohhhhhhhh it�s so beautiful, OHHHH!� and she stops, looking down at her bare feet. She cocks her head to her shoulder looking up with a finger to her lips, and grows slightly taller as the glistening, scarlet satin shelled, Kurt Geiger Hallie heels appear. She spins herself looking down trying to glimpse how they look and how her legs appear while wearing them.

Aell� stands motionless, eyes closed, picturing in her mind the O�Hara dress, in black, with patent heels. As black as the room is, the space she occupies is now even darker, drawing the invisible cosmic particles that occupy null spaces into it, and trapping them to weave and furrow and plough existence into the form she admires and lusts for. Roland Mouret himself would have found no finer a model for it, it clings tight to her, severe and full of desire in its every crease and fold and thread.

�Are you ready Anat?�

�Yes darling.�

Above us the world has gone to orange and crimson and purple marbled skies. The automobile and foot traffic surges through the streets like columns of army ants seen in ancient Africa; busily sacking the city and carrying off everything edible they encounter; the hordes of self-obsessed humans, rush through their days, unaware of who it is that roams among them. The skies slide into dusk and the two ancient creatures work the solution to the puzzles of locks on doors, finding, quickly, their freedom. The sound of our heels on the concrete flooring echoes in a reverberating choir down the hallways leading to the darkening world outside. We two greet the dark with wide smiles and are a blur as we move toward the city center with its fine restaurants and prized private clubs and clientele.

Red and black, Anat and I sit together in the beautiful formal dining room. Tables laden with white linens, hand and table, dark woods, fine shining silver reflecting light and aspects of the room, and clear crystals glow and spark in the candle light. As is our need we had ordered no foods, had not even accepted menus from the red coiffed waitress; she had looked concerned until Anat had bubbled and flirted with her and explained that while we had unusual dietary requirements we did love to sit and enjoy other�s repasts; and when I had ordered an entire bottle of Anat�s favorite Manzanilla, she had relaxed and the blood had risen to her face when Anat had touched her hand.

�It�s so like France was don�t you think Aell�?� It�s been thirty five years since we were last in Paris, and I wonder which of our many trips through that city Anat refers too. �The spring of 1863?� I smile in question at my darling. Her face lights with joy; �Yes!� she says loudly drawing the attention of several diners around us. I notice that the couple at the booth against the far wall are still watching the two of us closely and are murmuring about us quietly to each other.

Their buzzing commentary is distracting and interesting, and will probably sew their destruction. �Do you think those are their natural eyes or are they wearing contacts?� the female hisses to her companion. Neither wears the customary wedding bands. He is dressed in an Armani black suit with a collarless white pressed shirt, she is wearing some flash in the pan English designer I had seen in last springs� Paris Vogue collection, black mini-skirt cut high enough to see when his hand was penetrating her, an off the shoulder grey and black floral shadow pattern d�collet� cut sweater that reveled the substantial size of her breasts occasionally. She is petite; he is tall, more than six feet I am sure. He appears to be quite fit, strong hands, well-muscled neck, and light green eyes under a wide brow. His hair gray and kept short but not in a military style. He rises from the table and excuses himself from his female and heads toward the rest rooms. I arch my eyebrow at Anat and she nods and rises, walking toward the now alone female. I leave the table and move quickly toward the hallway where the restrooms are located, in anticipation of an interesting evening ahead. Behind me I hear Anat speaking to the girl, her voice soft and intimate and seductive. I wonder which of her aspects she�s chosen to use on the poor thing. The door of the Men�s loo is already edging open and I am positioning myself to be run into.

� Amanda 2011


Playlist The Wander

1. Easy Temptations

Dreams of Hunts

Opening credits to I wake instantly
Natalie Imbruglia ...................Sunlight

The two women rise together to �Are you ready Anat?�
Sousixe and the Bandshees ...........Ornaments of Gold

Above us the world to Red and black
Garbage .............................Untouchable

Red and black to The door to the Men�s loo
Emerson String Quartet ..............The Art of the Fugue DWV 1080 Contrapunctus 3 Bach
Emerson String Quartet ..............The Art of the Fugue DWV 1080 Contrapunctus 4 Bach

� Amanda 2011
Quote

The Wander

�������������� 1. Easy Temptations����������������

Sleeping Together

Our blue eyes *blink* glowing and face to face
We lay together. Dawn rushing across this place.
Tongues tasting each other; wet crimson lips.
Hands upon each other; firm strong white hips.

Sleep again now, with me, little sister;
Soon enough days� rule will lose its blister.
Dancing, watching, singing, laughter, drinking;
What is our day again will end; eyes blinking.

The two girls, in torn and antique frillery, with wind tossed hair, stand on the street corner of East Kellogg Road. Its well after closing hour for the clubs and bars that populate the blocks further southwest; and the wealthier homes to the east of this block of Kellogg, where healthy wealthy people populate the slopes to higher, fresher air are dimly lit, only a twinkle. The streets in this neighborhood have no masses of tourists flowing and clotting on their sidewalks, and the local college students stay inside or drive to the other locations in the city for their fun and frolic.

As close to dawn as it is now there is only the pair of streetwalkers parked on the corner of this block. Both are tall and thin, and brunette; they�ve blue eyes that glimmer sleepily in the harsh orange halogen glare of the street lamp above them, where moths and other night insects flutter and race. They cling to each other with pale arms wrapped loosely around each other�s waists, side by side. Long skirts of their Victorian styled dresses whip in occasional gusts of early spring air. We hear the hissing of tires on wet freshly rain washed city asphalt. The headlights of an approaching sedan illuminate them in white, and the smaller of the two wipes her crimson lips across the back of her hand. Her sister drops her chin slightly and peers up between the curtaining falls of her hair at the vehicle. The sedan, its surface pimpled by the small beads of raindrops, standing firm and shining on the layer of wax recently applied to its forest green surface, pulls to the curb before them on the shadowy city street and its passenger side widow slides down. The shorter of the two girls slides her pink pointed tongue out and licks her lips; the taller girl squats on her heels, one hand upon the window opening on the door, her glossy black nails reflecting the orange light from above. She smiles revealing sharp white teeth, nodding her head and standing as the driver of the sedan leans over and opens the door for her. The smaller girl quickly moves into the passenger seat beside the driver, the taller shutting the door and moving at speed to open the rear door and slide onto the seat.

The rear red lights of the sedan plume and flair in red halos; the car rolls off quietly. We hear the quick sharp chuckling of a camp of bats as they swoop and dodge through the cloud of insects under the street lamp. The brake lights of the car burn brightly once, the car shudders as its tires squeal quickly, then again and the tires slip on the wet pavement. There is shadowed movement in the interior. The vehicle drifts into the oncoming empty lane of the street, and slows; then the driver�s side front tire thumps over the curb and the frame of the car scrapes loudly as it sparks and becomes motionless. Grey and white exhaust fumes drift in the air blurring the red glowing tail lamps. The car rocks on its suspension spring from side to side and then there is only the clicking and groaning of the engine idling as it puts pressure on the machine to force the stone stair stoop of the building before it to yield its space.

Looking out from the window of the three room apartment above the car, sixty eight year old daughter of Buchenwald survivor Rebeka Holtzer, Lizabet Holtzer, woken by the noise outside her one room, sleeping, living and work room apartment, stares down at the crashed vehicle shuddering against the large exterior stairway to the brown stone. The vehicle quiets, still running but now still; and suddenly the driver�s door is open, as is the front passenger door. She blinks her aged yet still sharp eyes once, and a young woman dressed in ancient seeming clothing is standing on the other side of the car, at the open passenger door, returning Lizabet�s stare. Lizabet blinks again and there is another woman in Victorian dress shoving a man�s body from the driver�s seat and crawling on all fours out the door and onto the body. Lisbet�s mouth open, her eyes opened wide as the girl on the body raises her head, looks up, with blood spattered all over her face, her mouth wide and dripping. Lisbet feels a scream building when in a blur of black the bloody faced girl moves across the vehicle seemingly effortlessly; she now stands with her partner on the far side of the stalling vehicle. The taller girl with the blood soaked face leans into her friends face and they kiss once, and the taller girl is gone in a blur across the street and into the alley that cuts through the block beside the small two story office building where her longtime friend Delores Santiago has her own one room apartment.

Thinking of Delores Lisbeth looks down to see the smaller girl still standing staring at her, the girl tilts her head to Lisbeth�s left, smiles softly at Lisbet, the blood from her kiss now a red smear on her lower face. The girl raises her right hand slowly, positioning it beside her cheek, and wiggles her fingers gaily at Lisbet; and, like her companion, is gone in a blur of motion into the alley, moving at a speed that reminds Lisbet of the tractor trailer that had smashed with such force, into the side of the car, that she driving, her husband, and her only daughter her passengers were in on their way to a summer visit to the beaches south of the city she lived in and loved. She shudders at the memory and a single tear makes its way down her deeply furrowed cheek. She reaches for the phone on the antique burled walnut table beside her, dialing Delores�s number by instinct.

We lay together, in the basement of the abandoned building that we had settled in some nights before, the room has but two entry points, two heavily locked doors leading out to two equally secured hallways, beneath street level, and located in the center basement mass of the building. No light ever reaches here now, no pale white mote of dust will ever sparkle in the sunlight that is now edging over the mountains to the East and turning the Western horizon sky, where the great Pacific lies in its slowly undulating wholeness bright pink and deep rose. Sailors aboard fishing trawlers far out in that huge expanse of loneliness would begin to batten their boats down, securing all that moves against the augured change in weather. We lay face to face our bodies reversed to each other. You, so deeply beautiful, with your sharp teeth and sense of wry humor, and I, older, and loving you, and the terror that you are, beyond a human�s ability to weigh or consider; your tongue slides out between your subtle but razor sharp canines and slides against my mouth, my chin, and then into my mouth. The taste of the blood and its swell in my belly is so hot and drives through us both. You laugh quietly and poot loudly. �He�s hard to digest isn�t he, so much alcohol in him� you whisper. I change my position with a simple series of gestures and our naked bodies are tight against each other, face to face, your lithe form full against mine and your hands busy between my legs. You make soft cooing noises and smile, blinking quiet blue eyes at mine and we drift together, into unconsciousness.

In our sleep we hear the city above us moving noisily about its day, the wave roar of the ocean not far away, the deep knocking noise of all of the beating, breathing, short lived occupants of its maze of box like structures; the sound of all of the animals hidden in its shadows and the creeping out of their moments; the almost silent, because of its loud volume, shrieking and thumping and screaming noise of the machinery the occupants have engineered over the long expanses of our time. We hear it all in our dreams as we rest together, our flesh joined tightly, soft yet locked hard at the same time. You nuzzle into the cleft of my neck and I sigh.

� Amanda 2011


Playlist The Wander

1. Easy Temptations
Sleeping together

Opening credits to Sliding into the Car
G Tom Mac ���.. Cry Little Sister

Looking out from the window to We lay together
Collide �����.. Razor Sharp

We lay together to End credits
Collide �����.. Dreams and Illusions

� Amanda 2011.





is this necesarily?wtf if its was original but its not...i guess you have a lot of free time and must to do something..pffff better find something else to do Quote

is this necesarily?wtf if its was original but its not...i guess you have a lot of free time and must to do something..pffff better find something else to do



how interesting.. a male model acting the TROLL in the female threads.. anger management issues greater than even mine i suppose Quote

dear Amanda!! i want to thank you for making my day..you make me to lough loud hahaha ..too bad i have to ban you feeling bad about that..lol hahaha Quote

lol @ banned from Todd's room *giggle* Quote

Making the workplace more fun tip 376:

Give your countless bosses descriptive appendages like our monarchs got in the day -

Bob the Unready. Who be fated to lose half his budgetary dominions.

Mort the Cowerer. Not to be trusted in any close battle.

Ethelred the Auditor Devourer. Odin's pet.

Brenda Short Shanks. Whose dominions ever increase whilst her reputation falls ever deeper into disrepair.

John the Unsure. Whose actions stutter.

Pete the Unwise. Violations. Lawsuits. Lost customers.

Megan the Illusionist. Master of org chart and accounting deception, cryptography

Oh and when they meet in battle... what glory... what a scene!

Waterloo... Agincourt... Little Bighorn... Quote

lol @ banned from Todd's room *giggle*



You are welcome anytime in mine ;) Quote

Making the workplace more fun tip 376:

Give your countless bosses descriptive appendages like our monarchs got in the day -

Bob the Unready. Who be fated to lose half his budgetary dominions.

Mort the Cowerer. Not to be trusted in any close battle.

Ethelred the Auditor Devourer. Odin's pet.

Brenda Short Shanks. Whose dominions ever increase whilst her reputation falls ever deeper into disrepair.

John the Unsure. Whose actions stutter.
What amazing people these are ;D
Pete the Unwise. Violations. Lawsuits. Lost customers.

Megan the Illusionist. Master of org chart and accounting deception, cryptography

Oh and when they meet in battle... what glory... what a scene!

Waterloo... Agincourt... Little Bighorn...



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Crush Me

Well I never cry, no I never cry,
and I never fear in the normal way;
but you cut me down,
with a sound.

Sometimes you crush me.
Sometimes words will not deny
that you crush me.

Yeah yeah yeah.

Well I see your head, walking proud and high.
Honey, walk a mile down that silver ride.
Someone turned their head,
dropped a glance and said,

�Honey,

sometimes you crush me.�
And sometimes words will not deny
that you crush me.
Yeah yeah yeah.

Sometimes you crush me.

Somebody got a hold of my head
put it into a can,
changed the way that I feel.
Then somebody got a hold of my hand
put it right through glass.

La la laa la la la laaahhh

Well I never cry, no I never cry,
and I never feel in the normal way;
but you cut me down
with a sound.

And honey,

sometimes you crush me.
Sometimes words will not deny
that you crush me.
Yeah yeah yeah.

Sometimes words will not deny.

Lah lah lahh la pah pah pahhh lah


� House of Love 1992
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Portrait in Atlanta

{Watch you � not yet deciphered whispers}

It�s a little like you,
To take this mind and put it in a ball.
It�s a little you,
You shape the way I see you shape my soul.
It�s a little like you.

We�re a million miles from nowhere,
Yet to clutch the sky.
I watched her guard the TV,
I had to wonder why.
A war is never over
A soldier never dies.
And God is just not in us,
There are no crucified.


It�s a little like you.
It�s a little that good.
It�s a little on cue.
It�s a little like you.

You ohhhhhhhh.
You.

You.
It�s a little like you, like you.
A little like you.
It�s a little like you.

We�re a million miles from nowhere,
And yet to clutch the sky.
I watched her guard the TV,
I had to wonder why.

A war is never over
A soldier never dies.
And God is just not in us.
There were no crucified.


� The House of Love 1993
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The Wander

�������������� 1. Easy Temptations����������������

Plato on new music:

Our music was once divided into its proper forms...It was not permitted to exchange the melodic styles of these established forms and others. Knowledge and informed judgment penalized disobedience. There were no whistles, unmusical mob-noises, or clapping for applause. The rule was to listen silently and learn; boys, teachers, and the crowd were kept in order by threat of the stick. . . . But later, an unmusical anarchy was led by poets who had natural talent, but were ignorant of the laws of music...Through foolishness they deceived themselves into thinking that there was no right or wrong way in music, that it was to be judged good or bad by the pleasure it gave. By their works and their theories they infected the masses with the presumption to think themselves adequate judges. So our theatres, once silent, grew vocal, and aristocracy of music gave way to a pernicious theatrocracy...the criterion was not music, but a reputation for promiscuous cleverness and a spirit of law-breaking. [wikipedia]

A Fine Dance

�No we want to dance first, take us to a good club where we can develop a hunger.� The male�s urgent need to express himself sexually is written all over his trouser front, and he�s been adamant about wanting to go to his �home on the hills�. His female, who has shared with Anat and I that her �Christian� name is �Willow� and that �Derek� is her �boyfriend�, enters her weighing contribution to the conversation, �Anat and I want to dance baby.� And the issue is settled. Derrick�s Audi A8 L slides smoothly through the flow of traffic toward the Wild Buffalo House of Music. Willow and Anat are in the rear seat busily chatting about clothing and the stores in the area, and I can smell the heat of the girl from here. Derrick is silent and quiet, but I have seen him watch my thighs carefully as the passing street lamps illuminate them for him. I don�t object when his hand finds its way to my knee, but press it tightly between my thighs as he slides it up my bare leg and trap it when I cross my leg over it. He looks at me but I continue to stare forward smoking my cigarette.

In the Wild Buffalo we are over dressed but the center of attention, only Willow seems to be familiar with the place and spins Anat off to dance while Derek and I are escorted to a table to one side of the dance floor in the crowded club. A DJ is gibbering in a high pitched voice about the live entertainment scheduled to perform in the weeks ahead. The band, tiring of him and eager to glean favor with the crowd, many of them local fans, eases into their set.

On the dance floor, the four-some moves among the humans, the two non-beings and their prey. Cast in beautiful glamour to tempt and tease and twist the human will with desire they feel the heartbeats of all in the large loud room. Like women's menstrual cycles, the pulse of everyone present begins to synchronize, and the throbbing pace that then rules all is the tempo of the song that the band plays. Anat and Willow are upon each other, sliding and pushing and arms in motion and legs interlaced and then apart and glaring at each other like lovers just assaulted. Willow�s skirt has edged higher and the red lace panties she wears are visible. Anat blurs in close to her and wraps her arms around her and has her in tight motion against her chest. Taller than Willow, can only look up at the cold hard beautiful face holding her and gasp as her strength leaves her. Anat smiles and puts her lips to her prey�s mouth.

Derek puts his hands in the air in a palms forward gesture of supplication and I mirror each move he makes, remote from him and yet demonstrating a complete domination of his motion. We approach, I turn and his hands are around me, attempting to control my hips. My ass is against the bulge of his cock beneath the fine light wool of his trousers. I hear him groan behind me and spin putting my arms at his shoulders, my hands clasped behind his neck. He leans in for a touch of my lips and my fingers twine in his hair and yank his head back. I leave a mark on his neck where my lips pressed and sucked quickly.

The crowd opens around us to watch a display none will quite remember clearly, issuing comments such as �amazing, I�ve never ever seen anyone do that� and �her legs were so long and then she moved and the girl she was dancing with was in the air and then held tight to her then they were kissing. � later when questioned. The DJ will only say that he quit speaking and could only watch in amazement recalling that �The woman in the black dress, she scared the shit out of me and I mean, I�m a sub but what the fuck.� The quartet playing on the stage, a couple from Los Angeles and two local players, led by the beautiful LA singer, would only glare at the interrogating officers and say �Wot the fouk did ya expect?� Some of the dancers nearest to the two couples would recall that their acquaintance, Willow, appeared to be almost as limp as a doll in the arms of the tall brunette in the stunning red dress. And that Willow had only recovered marginally when the foursome had left so quickly after the one dance.

The security recordings, reviewed multiple times by city police technical and investigative members and later by Members of the Washington State Patrol and its Investigative Services Bureau, reveal only blurred motions, colors, bright blue eyes; the only clear details are of the crowd; as though the frame by frame screen rate remained unable to clearly focus and capture the motion occurring on the dance floor. Imagery of the foursome entering and exiting the club are clear and detailed but reveal nothing exceptional, or are lighted insufficiently, to allow for identification of the two women. Their apparel in the images is dull and colorless, and does not match in any manner what the witnesses from the club report having seen.

The travel through the streets is an abstract impressionist�s spray of orange halogen gleaming reflections off of the surface of the Audi, store windows filled with displayed beauty and design, shadowy pale figures winding their ways on the dim streets, headlights, tail lights, traffic control lights; each decade brings more and more and more glows and bright sparks to hide from this fearful and inventive species, how much it is that they can no longer see. The speed of the vehicle increases every moment, Derek�s concentration is complete and consuming as he drills a wormhole to his home in the hills on the edge of the vast continent. The sighs and moans of Willow, the occasional light thump of the soft cast tires as they pass over a roughness in the road�s surface or crush the life from some small mammal�s form are the only sounds.

The home that Derek has brought us to is perched high, overlooking the city below and its minor sprawl out to the bay. During daylight hours the view out into the bay, the minor islands scattered there, the boating and shipping moving through the waters and beyond, the wide expanse of the Pacific are beautiful and impressive. Derek had ushered us through his front hallway to a large living and entertaining area. Wide expanses of black glass opened is walls to the dots of the city lights below, the bright spotlights of the harbor, the lighted lines of cargo and passenger ships, the tiny sparks of houses, cars, on streets and dotted farther out in the bay on the peninsula and small islands; and then the wide black purple of the sky and its spread of fine diamond points; changing so slowly with each year that even I, at the breadth of my existence, can see little alteration in the patterns of the stars.

I sit, leaning far back against the smooth fabric of the sofa, my legs together and crossed at the ankle, a cigarette in my hand. The light grey fabric of the American made knock off of an Italian designer�s sofa that I remember sleeping on in Milano in 1930 is cool and sweet on my flesh. Derek has provided glasses of an aromatic whiskey on ice for each of us and stands across the room, his back against a fine wooden bar assembled from smoothed and oiled beach and drift woods. Willow and Anat dance slowly, smoothly wrapped together in a sweet close embrace. Willow is now allowing Anat to control her completely; resting her hand upon Anat�s shoulder. Willow�s flaming mercurochrome colored hair bounces and sways and Anat moves in close to her with mouth open, opening further. Derek glances away from the two of them and eyes me, his erection straining against the fabric of his trousers. I return his look with studied indifference, keeping the dominant role that he so obviously desires. He sheds his Armani jacket, allowing it to drop to the floor in front of the bar, and walks quietly toward me.

There is a gasp from Willow as Anat�s teeth begin to penetrate and Derek quickly breaks stride and stares open mouthed as Willow collapses onto the smooth grey fabric of the chair that matches the sofa I am seated on Anat perched on her and riding her down. Anat is now visible to Derek and Willow, though Willow is far beyond caring about the loss of Anat�s glamour and is seeing the images that the dying caress as they fold up their shows and leave the property.

Derek�s eyes appear to be attempting to launch themselves from their sockets and he takes a hesitant step toward where Anat is eating loudly. He stops and turns toward me as I leap. My feet are on his chest and my hands hold his head and he screams in a loud high voice as I bend further down than he�s used to seeing human shaped things bend and my wide open sharp toothed mouth is on his shoulder through his shirt; and on his neck where the first arterial spray paints me bright and hot and iron and the taste of the German Plaines is in him and now in me, and the forests dark and green; and he�s all over my face and I can smell him and my mouth opens wider as he attempts to pry me off with his hands and we drop to the floor with him over me and then rolling as I drink and drink and know his taste and am happy. His neck cracks as I twist his head, and his breath squeaks out and I�m on him like the creature in every small child�s fearful dreams. I hear Anat giggle as I yank his head off and suck at his throat.

The sky is just beginning to gain light from behind the house. We�ve hauled the now lighter carcass meat to the garage and finished what is necessary to keep them from changing. The world does not need more of us, and I only change those that I love. Anat has been my lover for over one thousand years, and I�ve turned no others in that time. We have examined the house, and it being an early Saturday morning we expect no housekeeping staff to appear, but in preparation, should they arrive, we�ve chosen to sleep in the equipment tunnels for the pool behind the house. We stand together gazing out as the purple night begins to shift to a blue green grey; and then walk, arms around each other, to where we will rest. �I do love you so Aell�� Anat pronounces, yawning and licking a blood drop from her hand. I pull her closer still, and lean my head upon her shoulder. �I did like that dress, maybe we can go shopping for some real clothes tonight� I murmer.

� Amanda 2011
------------------------------------------End Chapter One---------------------------------------

Playlist The Wander

1. Easy Temptations

A Fine Dance

Opening Credits to In the Wild Buffalo

Air ...................................... Clouds Up

The band tiring of him to the witnesses from the club report having seen.

Collide .................................. Beneath the Skin

at the house to There is a gasp

Peter Murphy ............................. Seven Veils

There is a gasp to The sky is just beginning

Chevelle ................................. The Red

The sky is just beginning to end credits

Florence and the Machine ................. Blinding

� Amanda 2011
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