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Oisín Breen

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Untitled is desire, an embrace and simpatico. Harmonic hunts for lust embrace all that see true beauty.
By Oisín Breen
Monday, December 23, 2002



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Longing is now, times that run. Times brim, hinting all that is allure. Dare he or I? There’s bittersweet risks for a chalice never drank. Unbeknownst are its poisons and its pains. A choice is live, will one, should one, taste again? Guzzle! Gulp down more and more! Her gentle self appeals. Or will one be at home in both disgust and fear alike. Suffered or astounded states are the choices on your very hand and I pray the right is made

One such choicely chalice is that which is but lust. It could complete you, blossom, grow, be sweet yet it could adore you as a god of pain, and enshrine you in a velvet tomb. It does oft a dreary desolation, despair and such deliver. This cup is burdened with hopes and names of love, an easy name to give to that which is desire, yet as accurate as burning water. It is primal, longing, passion, it is the fire that burns, a brightly raging need enveloping you to core. Now it’s so! It envelops you, you’re at home with lust and you’ve made your offering at the altar. Adorned are you, man of pain.

Sonorous beauty is she. A lady that bears the name that is desire. She has an air about her, she moves in struts, she is always all she is. She is that that is delight, she runs amok as kindred to all in world. Every beat is but a glide, an ever-present praise to all of nature and a thank you for her beauty. Upon a glimpse of her, trickle tears of joy, yearning begins to start. Tantalus’ charm is she, all would trade all for her. Barter man his wife, son his mother, all and all for her. One could contemplate destruction of all or self for but a glance of her visage, the form that does by her name abide. There’s no sweeter sight, stunning creature that she is.

Every waking moment, every taste of every minute, every hour, in each and every second she bestows weeping cries of want. Impulsive wants for the lotus flower, her and her alone. Lady lust is a gentle charmer, charm the world sweet beauty, I prithee do so now. I must explain monogamy is no majesty, no master of oneself, for when you see her all and bright you’ll for her but lust and live and breathe. Upon her gaze flees loyalty by command, it abstains the throne to hand to her. She is embodied lust.

Implore yourself, you that are worldly kindred, worldly beauties do abound, such lust is neither in their nature nor their name. Desire lady lust. Want her not, disparity will be reward for a taste of her sweet fruit. Resist and you’ll long for her for such a time, but dare I say the time in limbo is worth a simple freedom. Sadly though, all my preachings are but sane. There is not one way to halt your wish, to stop your searched desire. You aim and strive to wrap around her and tear yourself upon her altar, a broken ideal of love. Lock in gaze with her and lock in hand. Tear yourself from her and in that moment separated want her even more. Do you long to be tied forever more? Locked to her with ball and chain? Alas I know the answer.

You yearn for her, to bring to bed, to bring to you and set to upon her. You long to lay out plans to wake with her and move with her, to be as her. She is young and you are her’s in lust.

You wake each day! Eyes as if asphyxiated, swallow deep, sweat drips down your startled face. This happens each and every day. You’ll daily mumble, shake and move, every fibre in you will but each day scream for all that’s her. You’ll writhe about, frustration in desire. You insist on foolish things now and still. Before a more kingly man was there not, great man, you’ll have no further joy, wailing to and to about your home and all in future done is death.

You are filled to brim with all that’s lust, a drooling dripping desire. You succumb always to that that is allure, you lust for her and her eyes do embody such a thought. So too your head, your hands, your feet and heart. You are all for her and nothing for yourself alone. She provides nothing but a satisfaction of frustration and deserves not the worship of a king, yet a thought of her and I myself would adore her from on high and worship her forever. Lust is your only companion, it does not argue, it does not betray, it’s all you want.

To complete you’re self in that which is desire is your wish. A sweet temptation does a tempestuous master so provide as evermore do you, a former great, a man of world in a world of weakened men, but burn and writhe for her and all that is herself. All do in her lustful self but share. They burn hand in hand for her. They would run through boundless mountain ranges or scale unending cliffs for a look on all desire. A new Gorgon does exist, she destroys in beauty a striking supple delight is she.

You’re teased by nightly visages of her supple self, patient friend, you are patient in impatience. In all time do you call a pox on her, a crazed and maddened yelp. The muse does hear your cry. “Bedamned vixen you do astound, pathetic fool am I, I stand here in your power as you blight me in your lust. I want you from head to toe, from hand to hand, hip to hip and thought to further thought. All that’s you I want as mine, cursed witch with a spell on me, push me head and heels to madness. You have me now as yours yet ever do you tease. In but a dream, I touch and tease your shape, tell me where you are. TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE! Tell me… please.”

In all time you yelp, gasp for air, you drown in a simple lust, sweating ever on and over your poor sweet self. Embellished are you now, full of tension, desire and all your want is for Lady Lust, you’re destitute without, pricked in wanton need.

Cacophonies of voices beseech you and they cry. They tell you all that there is to do. Are you a maddened beast? Are you strange in self? Dare I say it’s so! Then sane you’re not? IDIOCY, I can so decree. You are a man of sane repose complete in all that’s sanity, the two polars do hand and hand a fellowship now forge, contented in another. Sane walks with insane, two willing pairs do need a balance. How and ever you do kneel on insanity’s cliff, fighting sanity with tooth and nail, teasing cliffs as if more sure footed than that which cannot fall. Keeling over edge and falling back to ground. Leaning on a threshold. Delights do loom and you do long.

Do you but for simple desires shed tears and yearn? Beg and plead? You want her shape, her form as it breeds a passionate astounded stare in all that see. She raises sighs from those dead a thousand years. It is all that’s charm. Its existence is a stroke of bashful brilliance by the gods above. She owns a walk to pride, godlike in appearance, majesty is she! If Helen of Troy was half a beauty as our lovely lusting lady then she was worth a thousand wars. Every moment that our Lady is, she is but desire.

“Sir” you say, roused in self. “I do implore thee, let me loose unbind me from my chains and take me down from cross, tear me from the wall to which I’m bound. Tell me where she is. Let me kiss the siren’s feet and hands and mouth. Let me adore her very self with treasures great and feast on all that’s her. What further grace can I hope to have than a taste of taste itself?”

“Until I touch her moving body, stroke an angels form shall I fast. No foods, no sleep, my desire belongs to nowt but her. Mark my words I’ll claim her yet. My meagre reputation does from all plead but a simple thing. From a man of my repose, she is what I want; let me lose myself, lose my simple boasts and banter. Let me be the instinct of a beast, the name of impulse, let me bound in search of her, a feckless task. I want help now in my sorrowed wanton search.”

I see before me all but questions. Do you claim any of your former self? Do you claim your former look, your traits or more? Is integrity in passion still your guide? My hope for me and mine is forever to adore passion’s gentle castle, breach it, sweep from me all that is mine and return twice the sum I sent.

You should be fearful to break and enter a siren’s sweet reside, she and you will burn and die, she remains untouched, she is desire and passion. Why do you dare risk all for Lady Lust? Live and love, forget the loose veil of lust she is, despite all it does in you frustrate.

She could and can bring one to obtuse yelps and whines. Make one long to further plead for her, yet nowt but gain. What is heaven? Heaven is his satisfaction in her and her alone. All is ventured. Much less is gained. All is given, death received in sowing seeds of joy.

You are my charge, a lusting soul. Alas I must be patient, I am death, I wait for yours. Your carnality will do all and nowt, it breeds itself. You shall delve until your impassioned pleas for her are met. You’re Avaricious now. You move and run and sail between the lands of thought and beast. Thoughts of that and that, to which desire belongs in name and self, fleet throughout your mind.

She lives in place so far away, after many troubles. Yet now a simple skip, a hop and run to flying ship, a little rest thereafter, then further walks in day and night, then your needs are there in front to be allayed and quenched. A drink of wanted ale and taste of that unknown that’s now loved. Tastes of taste itself! Once you learn where she may be, I doubt chances in all the worlds above, below and now do exist where you would halt your trip. This journey on which you do now venture will bring you all that’s pain. You will be a man of anguish and let it so occur, there is nowt to do but try.

Such a journey will bring you to your siren’s land yet alas you’ll never be but tied to Greek ship’s mast. You’ll run amok and never leave. With her very self you’ll romp and dare I say she’ll of course your thoughts and self accept. Lust wants all and want is a thing that beats common to her nature. Neither you nor her know death becomes you and is a fitting end for the lost self that’s you and a cursed fate for a beauty of the world.

Lust is willing and acceptant to all that is proposed. It takes all those who desire to lust. A simple offer from one or other and she’ll it ravage. Seize all that’s there. Tear those here and all around. Beauty is she and a sweet treat to see. All about her oozes exuberant delights. Churlish laughs come from all that see her, they yearn to place mind and self where they dare do not. Beneath her esteemed sweet self lie all below. She does have an altar resting at her feet. All who see her yearn to offer the greatest that they can. Adore her as a queen, the role of fan matters not as long as they are in her sight.

She is neither an unforgetting nor forgiving flower, once plucked she is both weed and killer and shall with herself and whoever else shares her taste her fate embrace. A curse is she and lust by name. The rogueful mistress that is temptation, she is a consummate desire.

To a land of life and vibrancy did you belong, where simple delights or anticipation in itself are but all the wants in world. Total love for all in a world of relaxation and certain joys.

You run and live amidst the wolves and I do to your very self decree, seize the day, grab it now with hand and fist, fight back torrential tides, swash and buckle the very waves, ravage all that is. Make yourself a new repose, be a king amidst the sheep, the wolves and shepherds.

Look back good sir at your tales of old; know now you’ll have no more if you venture on. Yet you’ll have many more, if you can away from lust herself reside. It’s worth it all I plead to you, heed my call. You will embrace all that is in life and achieve so much you cant it fathom, just tear away from lust. TEAR AWAY! Sir, you’ve run amok in far way lands and slept with those that do astound over sandy beaches warmed in moons sweet glows. You’ve strutted on and over wind swept shores and thrown stones 10 thousand miles, you’ve done so much now do it all. See and see, walk and run. Learn a life that is all and that that’s new to you or I! I know this is an empty plea, your mind is made but I owe you, myself and all those that take joy in tales of heroes and those that are but sound in mind to but once to you appeal. Venture on, you’ll nay regret the choice to leave the siren’s bed alone. Move on. Move. Leave her beck and call.

Be patient sir all is love and joy.

I must say now that the here and now of you, a once great man is a sorry state, all endeavour out the window, feeble wretch you’re afraid of light in case it steals away remembrance of her voice, afraid of all are you. Look at you, sitting, you’re cornered, arms running up and down your sides. Scrape yourself for a feeling! You shake and sweat, weep and yearn evermore for a simple complication. Mark this thought, until you do your want, a simple complication, embrace with vigour of a god you’ll nay stop your incessant weeps of tearful mirth.
All in you is sorrow and all in you is joy. You’re but a paradigm of virtue and a paradigm of tears. A microcosm of the lustful errs in worlds and of the joys they bring. All in you is emotion and desire. Scream now good sire for what there is. It’s a thing that’s beauty let it be. Life is love and love is life and so I make this appeal to you. Just spread your very wings and swoop above clandestine shores, soar above the sky, the space and above the very heavens, swoop, find intent and make it yours and be all you are, it is time and place. Don’t fall below or venture to a gloomy end with Lady Lust herself, slip away, ensure she does not prevail.

She may be all that embodies desire, yet after a brief composure of thyself; you’ll surely see embittered shadows. She lives in cold, a place that hurts. Watch her throb in pain. She is not nor ever will she be a home for that that’s mercy or true self. Be yours alone, don’t embrace a bitter end in emptiness herself. Let your madness deepen till you’re too mad to even lust.

I am almost at a loss for words, all I see are dropping ideals, coddling to an opera of the masses. All there is to hear is impassioned pleas to small minded folk and all the response is dwindling, unnerving trust have you for yourself alone, you know nowt at all.

I feel myself that you could be lost, so I say to you; Sleep a restless dreary sleep and when disturbed by every little thing you’ll hear, wonder is it her. Is it her? You’ll as you sleep these words cry, “Is it indeed a scrape I hear? It must be checked! What could abound? All that that’s a threat to all and what I want! What does abound! WHERE AND WHAT ARE YOU NOW!” You’ll live with jitters in the night, run about due to fear, fear itself. Watch yourself, soon you’ll fall down stair and drop 10,000 feet and fathom not the thoughts from which you hides. Maddened beast, I watch you live a life of all that’s fear. Until you greet her, fear will be in your midst. I’ll watch you desecrate the temple of man and kind. “Is a THING ABOUT?” you will ever yell but your mind does itself confuse.

Watch soon as confusion spins a web of doubt, weaving tales to fabulous to believe ever more in your mind that’s so forlorn, yet you’ll still believe. I hear you now, “I KNOW THEY’RE COMING!” You cry ravished cries of tortured tribulation.

You’ll run and hide. Hark you’re doing all my simple predictions in the now. I’m watching you now mumble in the dark. You’re caught up with my predictions. I laugh at you. You’re like a child, cowering in the dark. You hide again, running, all you can ever do till satisfied is run. You’re a feeble thing, alone in yourself, gone from all, your lust has all and turned to longing. Fear has swarmed your very self. You fear you’ll never claim your drink from a chalice poisoned. Writhe now not just in pain or anguish or in lusts but also in that that’s fear and dulled depression

You’re full of maddened cries, “They’re here… they’re here… I know it now… they’re here… all over me! Stroking, touching, prodding, all around, touch is all and nowhere. I feel it yet I don’t” You don’t feel a single thing, nothing is around, your mind weeps, you long for her and until you win against your lust or leave the world in such a lustful state, you’ll ever madden. What a pity, your tormentors were never there! What a nervous wreck you are. From grace to grave you’ll move.

My advice to you is short and shrift. Listen now! Move! Where you are it’s cold and black. Where’s the light? I’m watching, you are mad. Lusting after lust herself. Give in or fight but don’t sit a nervous wreck is my demand to you. All I see of you is that that’s trapped. Your insanity does abound. You fear the ground does shake. Why? Why of course not? The mind is a pretty petulant playground. Unscrew a screw and watch the bolts rain down. You are but hit by hardened dropping bolts.

Right now, I call to you these words, part of a final warning: “Reassert your pathetic self and feel the warmth of sanity. Wear its’ velvet blanket, yet remember velvet can turn to black or red and coil around, start to burn and send one to the Inferno that belongs to Dante.”

You stand, you leave your corner. The light will not erase your mind or stop your remembrances of the sweet beauty that is lust despite your fears to the contrary. You are mad to stay the same. Live in life or meet lust’s very fate with her but don’t stay shirking in a corner with nowt but nowt itself.

You’ve left your abide, now you twist and turn and leave your home, searching for her face, you’re a frustrated beast in desire. All that’s yours is desire and you make impassioned pleas forever, you beg to touch her and move around her very self.

Beauty and desire do figure in this scheme, this great equation that’s preordained. You’re a noble son of man and you’ll embrace the curse that is desire. A curse so much a caveat, the forbidden apple but more seductive than all the world, a meagre look from her and she can have you string yourself up by neck, rope yourself from roof and tie with ball and chain. Everyone who sees this thing that is desire wants with passion, never before live

She does exude desire in all that she does. She emblazons one with it. Once you’ve seen, a look, a thought, all you do you do in her. She is a thing to be yet stolen. A churlishly perverted giggling desire that makes one yelp for her and run your hands around your neck and choke as her sight is but too good a sight not to be your last.

She can call the world to her and with wild willing hands the world obeys. Untouched, untampered is she. Yet she knows the hunger, she is lust unparalleled. She knows sweet joys of hunger filled. She’s a vampish rogueful thing with appeal that provokes you to stand to arms. To leave her, to leave her in longing is an inconceivable notion.
She imbues death, gives no solace, nor does she live a normal life. There are two ways to leave her lust. One is satisfaction and for that, a Last Supper is all you’ll get. Of course there is a cage, to be locked up away and lust will die. You’ll suffer as if withdrawing from nature’s greatest drug. Her luscious lips do move about and all watch in awe as they do but live. Divinity is a form.

I feel you have no recourse but to her. You’ll find her and race in ways which will make you feel as if you last eternity. Eternity is a powerful joy. A life of lust is all that’s left, a day, a week, its duration doesn’t matter. What’s a lustful task without a life of love and joy is the question at hand. It is but a toy how and ever I presume lust itself can overpower. I would say strive for love and lust and not one or other. Steal the beauty now good sir, taste a taste of taste itself. Desire that which is desire. Long and live in Lady lust. It’s your only remedy.

Yells and screams, prayers and more have come from you. You seem to need a simple solace and you seek it in her form. You question here and there, you slowly build the jigsaw. You know where she resides. She is away across rivers great and over mountains far and wide yet a hop on flying beast and then a swim, then further still then you’ll find her home.

After wings have soared and dropped down once more you move about to swim. You swim now, closer, faster, brimming with want of her, faster still, you rush toward her home, full of all the want that is in you and Lady Lust. You’ve gone 100 Miles in just a day, no rest in the night. Climbing, soaring, aiming for the top, you reach the mountains as I speak. You have a day to go. Maddened among insanity are you and mumblings leave you’re mouth; “Unfurl yourself and cherish me, long and lust as I have. Let us be, I succeed now to you. I yearn for you sweet creature, a gentle taste of your lips and ever more. Let me dream. Let me loose. Entwine around you. I am to live in your divinity, a sample of your form, to be as one. Envelop me my dear lustful want. Let’s break your shackles and kill the guards, adorn your halls with all that’s passion. Let me free you now on land and sea. You are mine and I am yours. Seduce me now but further, my hands need to move and wildly taste delight. I plead and plead for now and ever, you are queen and I am yours.”

Does she know her fate? Alas the answer is but no. She is yet an unwilling entrant. She’s unwitting in a marriage of convenience. She is lust itself and lust aims for those who lust themselves. Two unwitting souls are soon to pair together, an end to this impressive chase. They will capitulate and link together hand on hand, hip to hip, eye to eye and lip to lip. Passion is in this lust and poison does to it belong. It shall these two destroy. Poor girl is our lady! She doesn’t know what’s to happen or where to she goes. She feels all she is to be is soon complete. All the thoughts she has are of the completion of her in self. To join her in lust with you and be merged by hand and hip forever more.

Whoever chances a dance with her, I say it will be you. Whoever does in a sweet embrace with lust herself partake shall rue the day as nowt but that that’s mine as death will be party to such an act. All that is to come is death itself, you and her, you’re soon to pass, join my realm, as I am death. No matter what, you’re fate and her’s is set. An embittered rush to taste each and others form will engulf both you and her and send you to your gloom

Loosely veiled in flirtation is you’re wanton need. You’ve arrived. You’re at her gates at last. Living lust are you and so is she. Advance now on one and other. You’re words are a simple veil for tasks ahead. “Unlock the gates, simple soul, join a sweet embrace, take me now by hand, you are now mine, lets lose ourselves in the nightly sky in warmth and voluptuous desires till night does itself but lengthen.” Such are words, you bid these while hammering on her doors.

You’re imbued as desire is in you. Such lust does give you strength, you break the walls, and shatter all around. In pleas you yearn and scream, echoes of desire, “adorn these walls with you and I, lets run loose now and still, I long for you and me to be but one, sweep before me as you are mine, gentle thing are you. Resourcefulness is mine to bring and beauty yours to show.”

These two souls do stand together, two anointed lusting things, locking hands, all over one and other. A gracious grace does nay befit a doomed lustful thing but it’s there nonetheless
Your hips are adjoined, rampant fever adores them, and lust becomes its’ Lady. Every joint and bone in her acts as if lust is hers to claim as her invention. She is now in her element, a goddess in desire. Two stunning stars now chase across the skies, moving, writhing up and down. They race in vigour, racing till they’re raced. Then they race no more. Falling is a star.

A curse is true , it’s there and ever, in them now and living. Poison starts its accursed way, it spreads and flows, it hits the two involved as if a plague, a ring a ring a rosy, a pocket full of posy and they all fall down. You and her are as one, drinking from the chalice it does all and hurt, every muscle does now spasm. Simple desire is ever more. You leave each other and now apart you want each and other even more. Madness does abound. Sonorous delights with her do exist and you lust and yearn for her more and as every beat does occur you plead for her even more. In lust are you and her entwined! You fear the death that comes but want her more than fear. Nonetheless you yell and cry and scream for all in pain and sorrow, “GET OUT! GET OUT! You’re condition hurts yourself! Get out deep poison. Please get out.” You scrape yourself and scream in unison with her. Two anguished souls do but roar while falling down.

All at once you and her, you race for joy and fall in pain and parallel. Parodies of sex are they and such a one you are. You are simpatico in joy and pain, in lust and anguish in all that makes the lady what she is. Lust itself is a poor companion for all that is desire. Every jump for joy is now met with equal pain. You burn and break, rot in pain through that that is desire. Despite your pain they can’t but stop. A hand does drop and a race begins. Everything does spasm in deterioration. Slowly you unwrap once more, her broken garden still so pretty bar a weakened self that is from poison’s own intent. Shattered mind is pain, full of lust and that which does a pain provoke. Now unwrapped both of you sit, you shiver in a corner, shirk in pain. Agony is a kindred and desire.

All the longing does yet exist, to save yourselves you must withdraw. Yet further more do you just race again, minutes more have you and her in your realm, your lust does not abide. The stars do burn across the sky, yet every burning time do they fall a little closer, in a dance of mine, a dance that’s dark and death.

You fail to comply in sense or any other way for preservation. Lust herself has chooses to be destroyed by what defines herself. You die in her the last gasps from you and her, two asphyxiating sodomite loves are now all and done. You and her, your both now all that that’s mine, you’re in the custody of death.

You are simple folk and mine. You’re under lock and key, to send to heaven, hell or else. I now control the immortal form of lust herself. I’ve longed as much as you have for her. The two of you in want of one sweet thing that you did achieve and with it find all that’s gloom, you head for hell, where she is to be. I feel I shall not send her there, she is mine to take. I claim her now. I demand her! She’s mine alone. She is mine! I take her now, her gentle arms, her glorious eyes and ravens hair, supple form and perfect shape. She may have no penchant for that that’s death and me but I do admit I do not care. Her astounding self is now mine with which to toy.

She is adorned with all that is the beauties of imperfection. Be mine sweet thing. Willing? The answer to that is a shrift reply of hardly. How and ever she will succumb to me, choice in death is nowt but mine. All that could be called is what she is. I aim to coil around her. Her sweet self is misogyny’s new toy. My patience begets this catch. Two stars have fallen, bitter lust is why and one is mine, she’s trapped beneath the sky.

Mishaps did adorn this beauty, the beauty Lady Lust, now a slave to me forever more. I yearn in her and she is mine. I am to swash the waves back, wrap her round me. I claim her as my temple. Death becomes but her and I, beneath the sky and above the ground I lie, my days and nights a decade of infinity, she’s mine with which to play forever more her wants are of no consequence. I am death and mine she has become. You are nowt and gone. Supple lusts do beneath and in us walk. They fall beneath the skies. Two stars have fallen, bitter lust is why and one is mine, she’s trapped beneath the sky.


Copyright © 2002, 2003 Oisín Breen.
No reprints or distribution of any kind sort in any form in this or any other known universe or dimension or medium without my express permission.
Much love.


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Reviewed by Tinka Boukes 3/1/2003
This is one Title you got here....Untitled is desire, an embrace and simpatico. Harmonic hunts for lust embrace all that see true beauty......the rest I gonna safe for bedtime tooo....:)))))) smile I will come back to you on this one okay..till later then
Chao
Namaste
:))
Love Tinka


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