segunda-feira, 14 de novembro de 2011


.. Her lips were of a silk smooth nature, like her skin had been wrapped in velvet, so intoxicating and appealing to the touch, so addictive to contemplate, in a way that only a mere glimpse of them would drive him absolutely mad, from the moment he saw them, he knew there would be no other lips he would care to taste, to feel, to savor even if just a mere second, and that with time, became his quest, his obsession, he drove himself mad every single day with lust, with the desire of wanting something so forbidden, something that he could not seem to obtain, even though it was mere inches away from him, those inches seemed and felt like miles, the endless miles of an unforgiving desert, it felt to him that she only inhabited his dreams, that she only existed there, but at the same time like they had met in so many previous lives and this had always been the dance that they had gone through, so many times before, the dance of lust, of wanting each other in a way that only those two souls would understand .. ( Lips by Alastair Black )

domingo, 13 de novembro de 2011


.. There was rain outside, thunder and lightning, the extremely loud bang in the clouds, followed by flashes that lit up the skies, that showed the fields in front of the house, beyond the clean cut lawn, beyond the white picket fence, or the other houses ahead, beyond the lighthouse that shone in the distance, guiding stranded souls back to where they belonged, regardless of where they had been before. There always a mist in the air, giving the place a touch of mystery, the fireplace roared in the background, ashes flying through living room, yet he looked only outside, to where the lighthouse was, looking for a way to be guided home again, because home was not a place or a house, it was not a lawn or a fence, home was and is where the heart is .. home belonged with her … he raised his glass and took a sip, whisky always seemed to calm his soul, bringing him back memories of how things used to be .. ( Aishiteru by Alastair Black )

sábado, 12 de novembro de 2011


.. His blinking eyes attempted to adjust to the texture of the display, he could not believe what he was seeing, in a way he would not allow himself to believe, but it all made sense, it all felt real, beyond the look, all the way to the touch, in those black and white shades, in that small 4x5 paper, where the ink had been splashed to create forms, to display a scenery, two individuals together, in way that made perfect sense, it wasn’t only lines, shades, ink, paper, texture or perspective, it was the way that it had always meant to be, he could see it displayed right in front of him, like a mirror reflecting his soul, a pathway through his inner maze to the core inside, the picture was not restrained by any emotions, any reasoning or any thoughts, it merely was, a reflection of existence, of the existence he wished to have, with someone that would define the outline of his soul, that would make all the seconds count, down to the fraction of the nanosecond, that would unchain his essence from the chains that he himself had placed there .. “Yes, indeed” he thought, “More than paper in my hands, you have shown me the content of this soul” ( Photograph by Alastair Black )

sexta-feira, 11 de novembro de 2011


.. In disbelief he looked at her, her silhouette so perfect, the shape of her body so forbidden, so intoxicating, the shades of her skin a perfect tone of alabaster giving her a angel like appearance, the smell of her skin was a mix of the scent of her own essence, her perfume and sweat, all calibrated and equal to each other, none overtaking the other, merely complementing one another in perfect balance. He ran the tips of his fingers down her form, so slow that he could feel the electricity coming from every pore, he could feel every nerve twitching with his touch, every movement that she made, be it voluntary or involuntary, he could hear her, gently whispering in his ear as he came closer, his lips wrapped around the base of her neck, his teeth clinching to her skin .. “Let this moment last forever” ( Moment by Alastair Black )

quinta-feira, 10 de novembro de 2011


… He worked his fingers around the little edges of the typewriter, every single key so faded out of use, every time he typed something, regardless of what the words were, just the ringing of the keys, the touch of the metal on skin, the rolling of the pin, the whole process was a symphony to him, he could hear each and every key like a heartstring, a melody being played with his own being, out of his own soul. He let his heart do the writing, he wanted it to be perfect for her, a perfect symphony of words and feelings that she could treasure forever, long after he was gone, but out of all the words, out of all the sentences, poetry, stories, tales or inventions he could put onto that piece of paper, the same three words seem to always appear. He stared, blinking at the paper which read in a perfect loop, a constant repeat, “ I LOVE YOU " ( Words by Alastair Black )

quarta-feira, 9 de novembro de 2011


‎... People do mere instinctual things to hurt each other, it’s in the thought that’s always on the back of our minds, it’s the acts that we cannot control, the words that we never wanted to say, in the reactions that we never meant to express. In the end it’s human nature, and human nature is to hurt each other, no matter how much we try to eclipse that into some deep dark corner of us, to pretend that that is not the case, no matter how much it goes totally and utterly against our nature, we end up hurting each other by being merely ourselves, and face then the existence at the bottom of that deep dark well, where the water is colder than cold, and the darkness merely whispers “ Let yourself drown here with me” … ( Hurt by Alastair Black )

" Shattered "

… Uncontrollably she sobbed as she looked into his eyes, because she could tell what was in his soul, he was broken, utterly and completely broken, not like a doll that you patch if you thread through her raggedy fabric skin, or a toy where you can screw the wheels back on to make it run, he was more like a mirror, shattered into a million tiny shards by a stone that had been thrown at it, deliberate, instantaneous, obliterated, she could merely see her own reflection on the little bits that were his soul as she tried ever so hard to pick them up, to glue them back together, to find the fittings, to make it whole like a jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces had been jumbled and were too worn out to understand, but each time she tried, all she got was hurt, more and more cuts over the scars on her hands as she grabbed handfuls of shards, trying ever so frantically to save him, to bring him back … he wouldn’t move, you see? shattered as he was … far too damaged to be rebuilt … yet she always whispered in his ear … “it will be alright! I promise” ... ( Shattered by Alastair Black )