GO WEIGHTLESS

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)

You are my customer this time. And i’m ready to serve.

All I have to offer… made to your tastes at the time.

Lemme quench that thirst and fulfill that appetite…

Nourishing you with blessed truths, sweets in the form of whispers and kisses, savory embraces and gazes.

May our friction make our natural spark a flame, and we boil and braise the veggies of our destiny with the proteins of our united flesh right now.

Each bead of sweat is of the flavor we seek, an earned release of essence and fragrance of the love we make and the universe we create…

Drunken off your nectar i inspire more…

Im thirsty for it…

Gimme!!!

…

And intimately, passionately, intensely, persuasively, intentionally, pursuantly, sensually, energetically, slowly, immensely, overwhelmingly, deeply, emphatically, imaginatively…

Cosmically, naturally, subconsciously, consciously, unconsciously…

I’ll make Our Love… TO YOU and with you

- Pati3ntWol1f (11292021)

10112019

I’ll state my intentions like they were a poetic password to be played off of my lips sincerely and into your ear sweetly...

an offering, to your goddess, of my soul - to come and taste of it and know that i am one with my truth...

I will bow and kneel, submitting myself to your waist... pleading with my wet lips upon yours for your acceptance - of me - to moisten and flow and grant me access to you, yours, heaven...

I’ll play praises upon your vessel with my fingertips, positioned around you like one would be if passionately playing the cello - as a cellist is to their instrument - your body being my instrument that i focus on; study on; practice on; repeatedly earning my way from “a gifted talent, yet a Passionate Novice” to “Purely remarkable Professional” to “Mastery”... mastering the art of keeping you with me, safely, ever-prepared, and In Tune... mastering the personal connection and the art of this instrument -your vessel - to the point inwhicb either of our names is inseparable from the other... and on demand or at whim i can bring angelic vibrations, in the form of pleasure’s song, up from within you and resounding out from you... a symphany of sensations made by two acting as one.

-Pati3ntWo1f

Well…

Just bathe in my praises. Soak in them. Let them warm, rinse, clean… play in it, rest in it… submerge yourself at will, float on a whim, dip whichever and all the parts of you on a want. Praises will keep flowing from my lips. My well of expression will never run dry. It’s yours!

- pati3ntwolf (07092023)

I must try! Wishing...

you have been visited by the seven magic dragon balls your biggest wish will be granted but only if you reblog

Cray… how a few typed words spark anticipation’s all-be-it accepted agony

I’m feeling her shadow

Again…

Anticipation is blind to Surprise and on sight, I was

Brain willing my body to “be cool. Be cool. Ice cold.”

While My heart beat accelerates “0 to 100 real quick”

I no longer break eye contact for your preference but for my own… prescription, to dull the extent of my vulnerability

Already lost in time, and dismay - 100% felt, 0% displayed… i should know better

The words thought for me are empty aught to be. Actions prove accordingly. Always have and will always be. If its not Mutual than there’s no Treason… yet myWants needs no Reason… to keep believing, my hopeless dreaming

Ripping the bandaid I walk away to step outside and see the sky acting as my eyes cannot. But feel as they could.

Its not sadness. Nah… it is. But its not, tho. It not the outcome drives my eyes to envy the sky right now…

It is my fault, my fallacy, my fiction… It is

The excess of my excessiveness…

Of these feelings.

-pati3ntwo1f (032822)

Crazed

I'm crazed by how the thought of you overwhelms my immediately/ and expodiciously exposes my vulnerability exceedingly/ needing this fix, shock, wake up call/ to awaken my ability to be enthralled/ shock becomes awe as numb becomes dumb/ to the sensation that mundane can make ones sensation become/ u conquered (my defenses) I saw (felt u while senseless) we came (and climax consistent)/ forever changed (ever-present and persistent)/ for I thought and dreamed and knew you/ I wished and believed and knew you/ I doubted and denied, coward and lied to myself in the face of your truth/ knowledge of you is spiritual, protecting you is ritual/ wanting you is now habitual, as the idea of living without you is minescule/

-Pati3ntWo1f

Questioning Butterlfies

“After the determined caterpillar climbs its heights and death defyingly dangles from its limbs and commits to a CrossFit Games effort to cocoon itself… there is nothing to say that its cocooned transformation is painless. In a state too vulnerable for the everyday elements it exists in, left with a shield like barrier and itself, it submits itself to a process that literally resculpts its entire being. And there is no evidence that it just slumbers peacefully; or basks - spa like - im a sauna of in-depth and intrinsic and intimate transformation. Physically and mentally. This being is being equipped to fly. One, that could only walk, is now expected to be adept to and have the awareness of one whose means of transports is inexperienced and virtually unfathomable. And there is no evidence that this transformation is painless. As such, I no longer imagine or anticipate my transformative moments or years to be pleasant, or calm, or comfortable. I now prepare for the fears of vulnerability; the burns of recasting my metaphorical heart; the blunt traumas of forced change; the spasms of exhaustion; the fatigue of trying to understand and link past, through my present into my future. And there is no promise that I can even fathom the awareness, comprehension, and/or the innate instinct that i will become. I wish that I could ask the transforming caterpillar: ‘What keeps you going? Do you even know what a butterfly is? Do you even want to change?’ Because I have been burdened, I have climbed and begun to cocoon myself (out of instinct, off of reaction) and amidst being fully committed to seeing this transformation through - I’m finding myself vastly under-aware and under-prepared… and that is slowly becoming okay. I remind myself to, ‘Trust your Nature’... and then… forcefully Trust my Nature , again… until I have transcended form - anew.” - Pati3ntWo1f (09132019)

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)

That’s the goal. Once achieved... one’s practice in “mastering the art of living” becomes effortless; additionally, one becomes capable of enjoying the pinnacles of each emotion - or idea - as intended.

I complete me.