Delicate hands weave through my hair, the feeling of freedom fading into despair.

Fingertips brush my skin softly, egniting a flame that burns ever so brightly.

I push them away, my heart intangible, a mess that remains full of trouble.

Their breath stays softly, drawing out breaths of air, skulled ghostly.

Aravicious demands hidden beneath, and I mourn my own grief.

Hugging my knees, I close my eyes, silently begging, please, uncover these lies.

A silent plea, imploring to be free.

She’s the one that holds me together Softly nestled againt my heart Always The way she lifts here non existent eyebrows Intangibly, as if to say “Is that right?” A protector Beacon of Humility in a sea of avaricious atrocity A bean A bell A lightbulb She’s all I really need

They were staring at her, but that was OK, she was staring back, gaze avaricious. because they were hers - had always been hers -. and she would have them back.

Needed them back.

She was going in.

Reaching out, intending to softly brush the top of them with a careful finger, her hand…

Past straight through the stack of credit cards.

Goddamnit!

Being intangible sucked.

Turning with another muttered curse, the spirit floated back through the wall of her old bedroom.

She’d be back tomorrow.

So bloody avaricious Softly boasting of wealth Not realizing your desires are intangible

Softly the wind blows against my cheek Intangible kisses laid over my temple Caressing my skin the way you would As the regrets cascade over my being I wonder if my avaricious tendencies Could they have been quelled With your touch, your presence Or is this loss a blessing To never truly know the truth

The way he spoke to her made me shiver, he uses big words to her like intangible, thinking she doesn’t know what it means, but he doesn’t know what she’s capable of, so she just lets him rant and rave. He will soon know again what it’s like to be with a woman, if he ever had been with one. As he plays a game with a now grown woman, she realizes how softly she strokes the heads of her clients at the shampoo bowl while drifting into thought. She takes her time with her clients because she’s not avaricious, she knows when to stop taking. She will even leave so she won’t take up all the people with them requesting her, she allows others to be like her, but they just turn out greedier and more avaricious the more she gives them.

Love is an intangible emotion. Stronger than any potion; Giving you the notion That someone really cares.

Love softly caresses your heart; All the while tearing it apart; So sweet and vicious; I’d rather be avaricious, But love is something money can’t buy.

Love is beautiful. Love is hard. It bombards you; Knocking you off your feet; Leaving you breathless, Helpless; Wondering what’s next.

Even with all it can bring; It is still God’s best. I won’t settle for less Because love is everything.

“Here,” she says, softly, holding out the bag of coins to me.

I take it and count. Slowly. Carefully. Meticulously.

I finish and count again. Just to make sure she’s not cheating me.

She looks up at me, almost hesitantly. Her grey eyes seem to have a thousand words hidden under it, a thousand things she wants to say.

“Money can’t buy everything,” she finally speaks up, and then walks away.

A feeling of amusement settles in, and I smile at her retreating figure. She’ll pay for what she said later, but for now, there’s the next person in line with a bag full of money.

They think me greedy, avaricious, always on a search for wealth.

Even if I’m the ruler of this kingdom, I know what they say about me. But I don’t let myself believe that I can make everyone happy——in fact, I don’t try to make everyone happy. Whatever they think, I don’t really care at all.

Money can’t buy everything, they say. Like friendship or love.

Actually, it can. Friendship and love: those things are intangible, not really true. Just a feeling.

It can still buy them, though. As long as you don’t care that it’s not real.

Our mother was never very good at the give and take game that came with relationships whether that be lover, friend, sister, daughter and least of all mother, she was an avaricious kind of person, you see. She loved golds and riches and could have drowned in her materialistic ways if they took the form of water.

She would take and take and take until all you had left to give her was your death. She was the kind of person that you could never truly leave, never truly escape from, you could move out, far away, you could cut off all contact for years, until it got to the point that you were never to sure if she was still alive, but in the end... you would always find your way to her,

For she had a debt to collect, you see and she always collected.

The longest living child of our mother and yet still ever the younger sister, looked to her recently revived elder sister, as she stood bare footed on the wild, flower spotted field staring at the night sky, humming a shanty the younger sister hadn’t heard for hundreds of years, not since their mother was still alive and they were still small and young and unscathed by the world, by their mother. During a time when they had so much to give and so little to fear.

“She had died long before you and yet you were still trapped with her weren’t you?” The younger sister asked softly in a voice muffled with melancholy and hesitation.

“We are all trapped with her, dead or alive we always find our way back, there is no escape from her you know that. Each and every one of us granted life through her, always will be, even through death, it is what she believes she is owed in exchange for the life we were given.” The elder sister turns enough that she can look at her younger sister.

“She always collects and If the time ever comes for you little sister, you will will realise that the same as the rest of us.” Her voice held a certainty that would have scared the younger sister in her mortal days. And yet still gives out chills in her immortal ones, she thought, rubbing her wrists, as if she could feel the fantom, intangible chains connecting her to their mother.

Her sister finishes with a soft kind of acceptance she never had when she lived, “Her death didn’t change that, so why would mine?”

I deal in Fast and the Furious philosophy As I tread softly down a quarter mile track Head on a swivel Factual avaricious As I find the intangible delicious The pistol in my mouth makes me taste gun metal Hell for leather I mettle in pleasure In pursuit of freedom I scream In my dreams A never ending hell scape Takes shape before my eyes Try not to run on the hot coals