Four Weeks....*sigh*

Posted on 4:39 PM by Miss Euphoria Jade Oyatz | 2 comments



The snow is steady falling outside *sigh*....roll over check my clock its, 2am.*sigh* I still have another fours of rolling to do. It's been four weeks of my constant rolling now, rolling and not bumping into anything, just the solid cold nothingness on the other side..... Its been four weeks of just my breathing, me laying with out the lullaby of the other. Its been four weeks. *sigh*. Four weeks of my black and white days, birthing more grey ones. Four weeks since these pictures have been flashing past my mind on mute. Flashing pictures which my mind has stopped comprehending. Four weeks of counting these bottles, my friends, on the window sill. Four weeks..... *sigh*. Four weeks of being stuck in slow mo, feeling like the girl standing on a street corner, while fast blurs of colour speed past me ,and for some reason I just stand there. I can't pick up my pace, every thing is in slow mo, I'm stuck in slow mo.... Four weeks *sigh*.... Back to my present...these four corners of my room seem to be closing in, but its my mind teasing me again. I wish they would close in, come so close together that they'd have no choice but to swallow me in their attempts to disappear into oblivion....Silence......again. Further mocking and highlighting my loneliness.*sigh* Shadows of the falling white outside, but not even the light graceful falls of these beauties can hypnotize me into appreciation. Instead, I hear in the back of my head, conversations that happened on nights like this, filled with enough happiness to whisk me out of slow mo,add colour to my flashes, and stop my rolling but.....its been four weeks. Check time....its only 2:15am...*sigh* Don't want to miss you, but how can I not, when everything commands and summons thoughts that were four weeks and then some ago?.... How can I not, when my heart now seems too heavy to carry around in my chest? How can I not miss you? Tears flow without reason, I have stopped the questioning of my bodily reactions.....I have stopped questioning my lungs when it is unable to take air that is readily available....I have stopped....Its been four weeks. Its been four weeks since sleep left me....Its been four weeks since I have been begging and pleading... Every night, laying perfectly still waiting for its call, the one that never came....Its been four weeks.....*sigh*....Its been four weeks of my happiness running on a low current, one that can not light up my entire body, its like a light bulb already dangerously dim and flickering still....Its been four weeks..... Its been four weeks since sanity evacuated my mind and gave room for nothing.....Its been four weeks since I was told I was no longer good enough....... Four weeks since I murdered what we had....*sigh*...Four weeks since I was starred at with a vacant look, four weeks since I went invisible....Four weeks....*sigh*....Its been four weeks since you left me....*sigh*

Little Girl

Posted on 3:26 PM by Miss Euphoria Jade Oyatz | 8 comments

Little girl’s dream filled with play and laughter, little girl’s reality filled with unwanted touches while trying slip into unconsciousness, while she tries to forget everything. Touches from coarsen palms...hands dead and old, dried with hard toil. Hands that have no business touching the softness of this little girl. Presenting smells that a little girl has no business inhaling. Groans and pants that have no place in a little girl’s ear.

Little girl’s dream filled with play and laughter, little girl’s reality filled unwanted touches. Sleep has been robbed with fear and quivering in hot temperatures. Watching shadows under her door, waiting for the now familiar shuffling of feet, the smell of activities of day. Little girl no longer sleeps or dreams but much rather prefers to stay in reality. She has the heart of a brave one, or is she just a coward? Some may say a scared little girl, but I think she is a sad little girl, because it is not only she that awaits these unwelcomed touches, but the throbbing that has now formed in-between her skinny thighs. This unknown liquid that presents itself when the toucher is present is new to her. I don’t think this little girl brave at all; neither do I think her scared. Watch as she arches her back to aid the toucher. This dance that takes place on top of her skinny frame she knows a little too well. Yes the aftermath on this little girl is saddening. Watching her body fold, trying to get every part of her within her bony arms, as she lets shame rock her back to sleep. When the throbbing and liquid disappears, the scales fall from her eyes and disgust stream down her cheeks.

The smell of fingers rest on the swells on her chest. When the dance is over swells begin to throb, but not like the exciting ones in between her thighs. These throbs are like pain. 


What is that feeling she gets when the dance gets faster and she feels everything else racing past? That feeling that makes her want to go faster, the feeling that makes her muscles tense and eyes go funny. She thinks it is like an electric shock, but not one that hurts. She can not explain it, but she knows it makes the throbbing go away, because after the 'shock' she no longer likes the toucher. She cringes away from fingers; the odd damp smell nauseates her. After the 'shock' hate is warmth.

Little girl’s dream filled with play and laughter, little girl’s reality filled with unwanted touches. But can touches be deemed unwanted if little eager fingers creep under night dresses and follow the damp smell? Can touches be deemed unwanted if little limbs mount on bodies twice their size? Little girl that has kept secrets without threats, little girl that has discovered the ‘shock’, the solution to her throbbing. Can they be deemed unwanted if skinny arms lock around the neck to steady themselves? This is a little girl that is not robbed of sleep but willing swaps it for reality. Can she be called ‘little’?

Turn The Page

Posted on 2:16 PM by Miss Euphoria Jade Oyatz | 0 comments

This is about a relationship that has lost its spark = a story that has come to the end.... It is my book and I am desperately trying to save my pages from my once writer/lover and his loss of talent.....he was meant to finish my story once and for all.

You said we don't have to turn the page, that the story had only just began,
And yet we've turned so many,
we're close to the end and I don't have another book!


I thought this was my last story,
so I stopped collecting books, I'm all out!
Now I'm quivering with fear.
I have become so dependent on this story and recently obsessed with saving my pages.
This is all I got!


Why'd I listen?
How could I have thought this was it, my last story.
How did I give it all up for this?
Nothing and no one is this confident and sure.
And I should have known from my library full of books with endless stories.
My past books should have highlighted these signs, they should have schooled me better than this.
But unfortunately I am still none the wiser.....


This story is starting to look like others.
Lines and style are no longer warm and promising,
More vague and senseless.
My pages stay still obediently, take these here lines...


Scribbles no longer send sensations to my spine.
The movements of your hands against my pages are loveless and absent minded,
They cause damage, rips, tears, jagged cuts.


What happened to you hand?
Your well crafted hand that would excite my pages?
What happened?
Do these pages no longer birth inspiration for you?
Have they lost the smooth caress they give your palms?
Has this become like every other page you've written on?
Do you blame me for your staleness?


If all these are the case, I beg of you please stop now
And save me some pages,
Something to console myself with, maybe I can finish my story with my own hand,
Maybe...
I beg of you put a stop to this mad writing for the sake of what it used to be.
Pen marks on pages like daggers in flesh.
Ink blots like blood stains appear.


You abuse me and mock me with your pointless letters.
Please stop!
Do not TURN THE PAGE!
No more!
Our story has ended long ago but you have become eccentric and neurotic!
Put an end to this madness and a start to my sanity
TURN NO MORE PAGES!

You and I

Posted on 5:39 PM by Miss Euphoria Jade Oyatz | 2 comments




As I sit and reminisce of what happened,
I feel the same way, unburdened inside and as light as air but oddly comfortable with my weightless satisfaction.

Eyes closed, mind deep in thought.
It all comes back to me, like a river rushing to fill its dry bed.
We had already played with the idea of you being here and now you are here, so why the scare?

I’ve found you and yet I’m hesitant. Doubts fly freely in my head of all that could go wrong.

You call my name and I’m back in reality.
My mind filled with thoughts, but no time, the time is now, time to make a decision.
I can’t deny that there is a longing there, but It could always be ignored .
Body and mind are in complete conflict.
It’s left to me, do i want this?

No time to think, the time is now.

Temperature rises with each passing second.

Longings getting stronger.
Fantasies slowly melt into reality.
Contemplations on seizing the moment arrive.

Bodies readily wrapped around each other.

It’s too hot to think.

Don’t lose consciousness now.

My body is heated up with desire, my mind with passion.
Your touch is firm and gentle.
Fingers trace invisible patterns on my back.

Brain freezes in shock.
Never has it been prepared to translate such passion.

Time appears to have come to a standstill, feeling of gravity being overruled
Everything seems to be afloat, but somehow we are still embedded in each other.

Motions begin to slow down.

Hands on my hips, strong and steady.

We are close now,

Heart beats are uneven but still in tune.
Lungs swell, trying to keep up with new rapid breaths.
Things get hotter still,
Sweat dribbles down my neck

The time is now.....

The Point.

Posted on 3:30 PM by Miss Euphoria Jade Oyatz | 2 comments

What was the point of this, I mean the point of the whole thing? Right there and then I knew I couldn’t be with him. What was the point of being with this man, this man that couldn’t open his mind to anything, this man who just refused to broaden his horizon, his taste, his style, his learning methods.

Forget methods, he just wasn’t ready to learn. And it’s not like I’m all for change my self, I mean change scares me but I’m so hungry for more that I do it anyway. A girl like me loves to try different things with someone, one who is open-minded and able to adapt after time.

What was the point of being with this man who was quite happy to stay where he was with no intention of changing for the one he claimed he loved. I can’t do this, I can’t be in a hole with him, I changed for him, or I was ready to change for him. To take on some of his values and things he found important, but only if I see him trying to embrace the things that I love. It’s not like I’m a rocket scientist or anything. I’m not asking the man to learn a new fucking language; I’m just asking him to acknowledge the things that I like! I’m not asking him to read every book I’ve ever read and loved, in fact I’m not asking him to read at all, but to acknowledge the fact that I like to read, that I love to write, and maybe once in a while ask a few question.

I’m just asking for the effort. Its not easy for me to put myself in his frame of mind, Lord knows I absolutely hate it but I do it anyway, and ask all the questions that I know he is dying to answer. I do all that, I come to his level and try to teach and explain everything. I’ve learn to dumb everything down, things I never thought would need dumbing down I have dumbed down.

Try to introduce him to new music, I mean we all love music, it’s like a universal thing right? Wrong! Soulful music that everyone can relate to and I mean anyone, I have introduced to him. But every time he gets my iPod and I finally believe I’ve reached out to him, what does he do? Click menu and start searching for the same meaningless overplayed song. And no, I don’t even know why those songs are on iPod in the first place.

How can I be with a guy that can’t listen to my iPod on shuffle without skipping all the time? And when it comes to music I know that I am not one sided and I am one of the most diverse people you could ever hope to meet, everything is welcome bar metallica, but that still isn’t good enough for him.

Take him to the cinema to see a movie that I want and what does he do? Fall asleep! Doesn’t even try to feign interest, just goes right to sleep. And I know the truth of the matter is if you really love someone these things shouldn’t matter but they do and the fact is I don’t love. I don’t love him until we’re in the dark and he gently starts stroking my thighs and starts kissing me, or when he mounts me. I don’t love him until then. Until we’re in the dark and I can picture being with someone that truly gets me and all my crazies, and to be honest he isn’t bad on the eyes, on the contrary he is extremely good on the eyes, with a body that creates deep fired want when he walks or when he smiles. But with all this I only ever truly love him in the dark when I can pretend that I am with his body but the mind of someone that truly gets me.  

So I ask my self what is the real point of all this is? I am only happy with him for a few hours of the day when its dark and I can play make believe without  being caught, and I spend the other hours of the day praying for dark to come or inducing happiness with alcohol. So what is the point of being with this man?

Do I have to pray for a world in total darkness so I can play make belief all day long or do I need to move on and find someone that doesn’t request so much of my fantasying skills?

Lost.....

Posted on 4:02 AM by Miss Euphoria Jade Oyatz | 0 comments




Its overwhelming, it’s swelling in my chest
I feel the tears welling up.
I feel the pressure on my insides
I lost him.
It was cold and my fingers were stiff,
I couldn’t hold on,
I tried to, my joints wouldn’t bend.
I still hear him shouting my name.
And it carries over the sound of the waves and sea
It carries over the incessant screaming in my head.
I claw my fingers into my head, begging for a release.
I draw blood but no pain....
No gain for me.
I want to go with him.
I want someone to let go of me
I want the falling feeling.
I want the nothingness.
I want the whispers of death in my ear.
Anything to kill the screaming in my head.
I’ve cut so many times,
My body has now refused to heal.
I leave a trail of my blood.
That way I never get lost.
Those are my crumbs back.
I have been searching for Lost.
On darkest nights with wicked winds.
I have gone, when madness has robbed me of my sight and reasoning,
Yes, when I was blind I went.
But I never found Lost.
Lost had abandoned me.
And now I will always be found.
These bloody trails will always lead me back to me.
Back into my head,
To the house that has no windows or doors.
The house painted in deep despair with a light coat of anguish.
It is not seen and unfortunately not Lost.
It finds you when death skips you.
It finds you when death takes half of you
And leaves you with the half you cannot take care of.
When cutting no longer goes deep enough,
When blood isn’t red enough.
When the screams of the earth aren’t drowning enough.
And when Lost is nowhere to be found.
This house in my head finds you and takes you in.
If you’re lucky, your case of sadness might be so high
That if finishes you off.
If not,
On darkest nights with wicked winds,
You wander, searching for Lost,
Even though scarlet footprints make it impossible find.



Sleeping Boy....

Posted on 9:07 AM by Miss Euphoria Jade Oyatz | 0 comments

He would jerk and stir in his sleep and I would lie next to him and watch.
Sleep looked so beautiful on him,
He wore it like a fantasy I was dying to be part of.
Stay close enough to taste his breath; it was full but never filling.
It tasted of sweet warmth in the bitter cold and had a hint of calmness in a storm.
I was addicted to his breath....I wanted his tongue to paint it all over the inside of my mouth.
But still he would jerk and stir in his sleep, my heart moved with such deep concern; it would break to watch him...
My fingers, always just the length of an eyelash from his face, were hesitant in laying the touch. Hand would stay suspended, savoring the heat coming from his skin.....
Can’t… fear would always stop me and once again my heart so heavy with concern would shrivel.
 What chased him and stole his peace I wanted to know.
I wanted to be the solution,
His solution,
His peace finder and keeper.
To have my kisses as guards, so I could kiss his nightmares away.
 I wanted all these things on the inside of my arms,
 So I could pick him up and rock him back to safety and back into peace,
 My peace.
But I couldn't,
I wouldn't.....
Fear had me, and it had me good...
I'd watch him stir and jerk and hold my next breathe until he stopped,
Fingers always just an eyelash away from laying the touch.
Maybe one day I'd touch this sleeping boy and find out if I could ever be his peace giver or kissing guard....
Maybe.

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