My Las Vegas Story: Part II: A New Begging: A Rant

This is my Las Vegas story – part 2

I.

The mountains are brown and high,
Non-blue skies,
Muggy and heavy air,
Angry people lost in hell,
I’m in Las Vegas.

A small room with shadowy white walls,
Plain, angular, severe black furniture,
Technology everywhere,
A short, thinning black man in the middle of beige-ness,
I’m in Las Vegas in my room.

II.

I’m bored,
My body is bored,
My spirit is bored,
My voice is bored.

Boredom envelopes every part of my --
Cells,
Neurons,
Atoms,
I’m a large mass of boredom,

It is a festering and dangerous cancer,
A disease without a cure,
It is eating me a life,
The only solution is expiration.

III

I cannot understand the place surrounded by mile high treeless mountains,
I cannot speak its language,
I do not understand its vibe,
Therefore, I’m alone.

Its energy is confusing,
Too dialectical,
Too diabolical,
Too death looking,
Therefore, I’m alone.

Its people are queer,
They speak a secret language,
An unusual body language,
They talk through their eyes,
They just stare,
Therefore, I’m alone.

Oh, oh how I wish I was in The Bay,
The place of rich, lyrical language.


This is my Las Vegas story – part 2.

The Next Post

Due to a recent family tragedy, the next post will be published next week. Thank you my dear readers for supporting my blog.

Take Care,

The Fragrance Man

Love and/or Lust: A Theory

This is my theory about love or lust while living in Las Vegas.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Sugar is Sweet;

So, are you . . .

Roses are red . . .

Passion,

Sexual pheromones,

Ecstasy,

Sensual sensory overload.

Our bodies glisten after intense intimacy,

We are beautiful, almost divine,

Our union is near perfection,

We, you and I, are in heaven.

Violets are blue . . .

Sadness,

Sexual calmness,

Longing,

Sensory dormancy.

I mourn when we leave our secret world,

I wish our hidden universe could last forever,

But, alas, we must go to our lives,

To live in our public spaces.

Sugar is sweet . . .

Playfulness,

Sexual anticipation,

Invitation,

Senses are waiting.

I wait until we meet again,

I am impatient -- I want to recreate our perfect world,

I anticipate our bodily sexual discourse,

I will hold you in my arms.

So, are you . . .

You are perfect in my eyes,

You taste beautiful,

Your scent is intoxicating,

Your voice is mesmerizing,

I need to touch you.

This is my theory about love and lust

Season's Greetings My Dearest Readers

Sunday Morning in Las Vegas: A Haiku

An all white room with a soft Sunday light

Two people laying in a comfortable bed:

Secret companionship

Madame Tussauds: A Haiku

I am staring at real celebrities
Many cool rooms --
They're fake

Howard Hughes: A Haiku

A warm winter day
At Howard Hughes Center --
I wait