The inner voice, Yearning

The frustration mounts, rages, and pulses.
Nine Inch Nails, Tool…
all the wrong music, wrong time,
fueling this burning intensity.
Inside my head, the voice demands.
She screams and cries,
with the face of a baby doll,
a scream louder than train wrecks,
and no concept of patience or reserve.
She’s shouting louder, louder, louder…
Grabs my brain by the cortex and won’t let go,
longing, needing, craving, aching.
She shouts and thrashes,
rolling tantrums across my thoughts.
I cannot quiet or appease her.
She etches her screams into my sanity,
Leaving me lost in the echo of
“I want! I want! I Want!”.

Damn that lousy imp.

Management Material?

Don't let looks decieve, the rock star on the far left is a skilled professional in the Title industry (ie, real estate law, essentially). He's my boss. This band was signed back in the day. I don't know the band name, but pretty neat just the same. :)This is just a scanning of a photocopy of a pic, so my apologies for the grainy-ness. I added the tint just for kicks, too.

The writing of erotica seems quite popular these days.
I’ve thought about trying it, just for the challenge of something new, but I’m not made for it.
To a person like me, who needs no fancy incantations to summon the fiery imp within, it’s hard to see what words should tease a more coy spirit from slumber.
All the entreating I need
is to hear the rhythmic hush of his breath,
the kiss of his skin whispering its warmth to mine
through thin cloth barriers,
even at the most casual brushing by.
Perhaps I'm just too easily enflamed.
That hypnotic curl at the junction
of my lover’s perfect lips
as they draw into a subtle grin,
that is all it takes to rush pressure into my veins
flush heat into my face and ears,
and dizzy me to a drunken high.
True, should you add to that a touch,
a stroke of my neck or hip or thigh,
my cravings burn still hotter.
Yes, I drown in intoxication
at seeing his face above me,
like sky and sun and storm clouds
overwhelming the very air I drink
in heavy, hurried breaths,
But for all that follows this,
words in any mixture are too cold and tame
to merit speaking.
The stormy blaze that consumes all reason, all words,
melts cognitive circuitry into molten fury,
Where words simply have no meaning.

New Avatar???

Something pretty to share with you

Someone asked me what my favorite gemstone was. An odd question for me, since I’m not a big jewelry person. I don’t even like diamonds, much (I know, women are supposed to all love diamonds). So, I said I guessed I like natural colored pearls, citrine, peridot, and smoke quarts. But, I ended up googling gemstones later, because I figured I should be able to pick one.

Then, I found this: Andalusite

It’s like peridot and citrine all rolled into one. It’s vibrant and complex and full of a nature-lover’s favorite colors. So, now there’s an answer, andalusite! Isn't it cool?

I can never pick a simple answer, could I? Ask me if I prefer gold or silver, and I choose mokume gane. Ask me “diamonds or pearls?” and I say andalusite. But oh well. At least I know what I like.
I'm also curious what sort of cut this is:

I'm usually an emerald-cut fan, all the way, but that is quite nice.

Of course, I'm still not the kind of gal to buy jewelry. After all, I could buy a LOT of comics, novels, and oil paints for the cost of most fine jewelry, and you don't need to glitter to read or go hiking. But still, I shared something pretty with you. Happy?