Yan's Labyrinth

You see eyes flicker across your canvas... Describing wordlessly their bold intentions. Watching you touch and caress with each brush stroke.  Carefully constructing your dream into reality... Breathing life into what once stood perfectly still.  You inhale deeply with frustrated anticipation weaving in and out of your mind and your emotions... Your hands seem to bleed and blend into your canvas, forming the exquisite realm of your pain and joy.  You are anger and magical laughter. Pain and retribution.  You are swift accusations and compassionate love.  You are an artist restless and freedom bond. A creature of rebellion. A fighter against suppression.  You are an artist down to your very core.  Languid yet contorted all at the same time.  You are reality in a world that is all but a dreamlike haze.  Relax your tightly wound hands and rest your ever-speeding mind.  Let your arms transform into wing...

She's always been a bit of a dreamer...    half way here...         half way there... Making her way along the paths only traveled by the ones that they call different or special... The way she speaks speckled with nuances and meanings that are all her own      ...it confuses the masses but is understood by a few that she considers her own.. I've seen her smile and nod and engage in humorous banter so convincingly that she feels genuinely present... You would never guess she's dreaming.       Her eyes are changeable and hide as much as they convey...              always travelling...                   always far away. I've seen her cry. Wretched silent tears that demonstrate her pain only by the heaving of her chest.    ...

I've often wondered what it would be like to simply disappear... Not to die or leave this earth willingly...            but to just disappear. Slowly, layer by layer, begin to evaporate into nothingness. Becoming one with the air, the trees and the sky... Floating and being everywhere and nowhere all at once.   Would it be freeing? Or escaping?   I've often wondered about that.   -Y . Salmon

https://youtu.be/qqrvm2XDvpQ

They call her a beautiful mess because they do not understand her... Constantly trying to trap her in box made of metal bars and no breathing space. Making her presence seem diminished and irrelevant.... They call her a beautiful mess because she is beyond their comprehension... So free and honest and constantly in search of more... More than they will ever be able to wrap their feeble minds around, made of narrow alleyways and lacking of individual thought. She is a representation of all that they fear and envy, wishing to be able to grasp that childlike awareness complimented by astute and dynamic intellect.... She is what they fear most because she is fearless and real... Loving herself and knowing her worth sends alarm bells off in their minds and they wish to silence her. She is defiant and strong... They call her reckless and fool hardy. But none of this defines her, simply because she stretches herself far beyond what any of them will ever be able to understand. She is...

There is a thirst to understand the desires of the flesh... The need to touch and be touched... To hunger and be provoked... The way her body moves cries out 'release me'  let me catapult you to a new level of ecstasy that has nothing to do with my inner core... But instead seduce my inner lure.... Breathe into me the yearning of unshaken freedom... Wrap your fingers around my mind and massage it to a new level of indescribable uphoria... Touch my thoughts so deeply that I am driven to the edge of desire and need... Touching myself and screaming your name in desperate release... Handcuff me to the bed with your words as they reverberate along my skin, sending goosebumps of hungry anticipation that moisten my sweet perfection. Handle me. Make me hum, til I cum and explode in delectable cerebral bliss... Riding the waves of this, our transcendent synergy. — Y. Salmon  Photocredit goes to @wreff.

I saw you today, Crystal clear and 3D visionscape in my mind... Entangling me in your armour... Devouring me with your smile. I am nestled now in your bosom, peaceful and serene like a new born babe, having no part in being pried from your arms. Refusing to let this moment escape me. You kiss me gently on my forehead and rock me slow and steady like a mother bringing comfort to a child and I am whisked away to a place of severe contentment... That leaves me sated and sublime. I have had visions of you all my life I am sure. Never certain of what this yearning really meant... Never sure of how I should pursue it's interpretation.... Rather I sat and let the vision of what you were... In my head.... Grow and blossom into what you meant... To me. Now I am still and breathing and feeling you enclose me with your tenderness and warmth and I find myself overwhelmed with tear-streaked cheeks and a grateful heart. Emotions have become exposed and raw in their expression and I am left ...