New York Jizz Department

Smooth. And gleaming. Sparkling, Like a polished glass. Smooth. And delicate. And silent. Oscillating. Hovering above the frozen surface, Of the sprawling alpine lake. Skating. Gliding. Winter. Clear,... And pristine, As the snow-covered banks in the distance. Ringing. Oscillating. Hovering. The Tail Of The Ouroboros. With one hand,... Fingers extended. Trailing behind her, Like a long scarf In The Wind. And her other hand. Skating. Gliding. Hovering. As clear as the air around her. Above the ice, Of the frozen lake. Hovering. Oscillating. The Tail Of The Ouroboros. Winter.

Last night I fell asleep on, Thuh LSD Couch. I woke up at sunrise, sleeping inside a canoe, and floating, floating on a lake. A thick mist covered the cool surface, clouding the evergreen trees which towered around me on the banks. Each of my legs were shackled, and on the far side of the canoe sat an Angel. Around her waist rested, a similar, loose-fitting, larger cuff. Connected to her by two thick chains, that snaked along the bottom of the canoe. This Angel sat silently at the opposite end of the vessel, paddling oh so gently with the oar in her hand. Barefoot, with the shackle resting around her waist, and a flowing, earthy-colored shawl draped generously over. With a bandanna to match, she held her straight hair back. Her eyes were in shadow, as she navigated oh so silently, with her oar. Floating. The canoe bobbed ever so subtly in the water, as the crisp, gray-blue sky hovered above us, and, s...

I Am, The Momentary Pause,... The Fleeting Respite. I Am, The Wind,... The Silent Wind,... That Wisps Around You,... Descends Upon You,... And Envelopes You. Where Time Stands Still. There, Will We Meet. This Hallowed Space. The Calm In The Storm. There We Shall Stand, And Time Will Stand Still. With Us. Shaken. Grounded. A Test Of Faith. The Pillars Of The Parthenon, Stand, Silently,... Eternally,... As The Most Delicate Of Feathers, Floats In The Wind, Through The Spaces Between. We Are Safe Here. Where Time Stands Still. Where Time Stands Still. Respite. ######## https://www.pinterest.com/pin/24488391710361419/ https://www.pinterest.com/pin/24488391710361418/ http://www.jasonjuta.com/ https://jasonjutablog.wordpress.com/ http://www.roman-noir.com/

Melancholy. The Swords,... They gleam,... they are magnificent,... hanging on the stone walls of This Castle,... that tower high above me. Melancholy. I am filled with Melancholy. Overflowing. An abundance. Flooding. Overflowing. Permeating. I sit now, at the base of These Stone Castle Walls, that tower high above me. The Swords so magnificent, gleaming, hanging silently on the wall above me. I am filled with This Liberating Melancholy. And The Flower Petals, Of The Cherry Tree. Falling. Floating. Into The River Basin. Flooded. Still. Quiet. Peaceful. This Melancholy. ######## https://www.elliotoracle.com/blog/2017/6/28/the-card-of-the-day-the-nine-of-swords

I found a portfolio-quality fan-art of the world-famous Tank Girl, that embodies many of the qualities and slights of character, that I seek in That Hypothetical Special Someone: This is my ideal. Fierce. Tough. Simple. Intelligent. Unspeakably Powerful. Articulate. Sharp. Proud. Glamour Queen? Princess? No. Pass. Boots. Socks. Underwear. Pants. Shirt. Braces. Jacket. Eyewear. Hat. Boots Laced. Strapped. Primed. And Loaded. Up And Out. I need not a frivolous Princess or Glamour Queen, to slow me down. Dead Weight is, just that. https://www.deviantart.com/piopaulosantana/art/DSC-Tank-Girl-178310915 https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitcFGipGWCbCSGxHeoFDanAghKoKHMTnGZAh_r0BJGQm_H4u-Djvy7FXhHxvmtlBxmNirjQI2yCfkWrq1Rnye4BZ2goY97Ai8swvotSo9fxXO5IAd55ftZ-C_kVqsktFH7U49HxP1p_sIk/s1600/TankGirl.jpg