Winds From The East

Osiris 83/ Jj 86 A mirage- not an illusion Can be captured, can be proven It's there, but isn't really- Refraction not reflection. Beneficial in its right… The euphoria suffused in her blood. Her mind was enraptured. Her body... tireless yet dormant.All she remembered were a few random conversations ... all she could see was an unfamiliar yet quaint corridor ... the paintings, vanilla ice-cream and an ivory tower. All being manifestations of her own mind, conjured by her subconscious. “What do I owe the pleasure?” “You are in trouble” “Who is it this time?” “Religious fanatics .... Feminist groups .....” “Drink? I've got Bourbon ... and.... bourbon” “Bourbon ----- rocks” ... If acknowledged by a sound mind In a sense affecting the vision Though incentivizing the mission Inspired, motivated at the sight of the horizon Humans faulter, breed hope, trudge fiercely, denying all reason. In the darkness, close your eyes, mirages fade at night Sleepin...

Five meters long, four inches in thickness, round, fresh and at a cheap price of one dollar for a dozen- Julie loved slicing those cucumbers between her legs. The soft moist wet seeds when touched against the soft cones of vanilla ice cream, as she often described them; flowed in such harmony that she let out a soft cry. Julie could feel her body tinge and turn- she let out a moan- the fresh cucumber juice filled her moist inner desires and gave a sensation unlike she had before. When the juice and desire sank in, she took out her favorite Parisian cigarettes and formed halos above her head, in the sparse medallion styled apartment in downtown New York , Julie lived among art, sculpture and dreams. She could have been a model, with the anorexic body and small pear shaped breast, yet somewhat; her preoccupation was more with how art sublimed with architecture that she never fit into any broad category. Nor did it bother her a lot. Her flat was meticulously principled accor...