what is the best way to manage the mass of contradictions you have found yourself ball and chained to? i would say that it is time to cut off your own foot to save the vessel. no one should ever find themselves attached to an aspect. i cannot blame him for trying to take me one corner of my personality at a time. critics covet what they cannot explain. our conversation went around, serpentine, but not shedding any layers. the garden snake turned into a python and all the life was choked out of what started out poisonous and volatile. death to that train of thought saved us for just a moment, though probably not forever. i would rather over consume and have it perish in a vile of venom than have to endure the slow panic of losing all of my breath, having it taken away.
what am i saying? what did i say? what have i said? nothing. the above is trite bullshit. who the fuck writes about snakes anymore? it's all so biblical. i like poison, but not venom. if a python was choking me out, it would be real death, not some poetical word vomit. hate that word, but regurgitation does not work in this context. what really happened was i got pissed off and saw a side of someone i knew was there but hoped i would not be affected by. this pull at my skirt kind of gentle sense of entitlement. an invite into my bedroom and there lies the key to my brain, yes? sure. on that day, but my mind shifts and there you are, holding a wig scented with my perfume.
so i am gone and the end of the night is not so promising that i will be rolling over and going to sleep while beads of perspiration dry into my thick curls, thighs aching, back unable to forget it's arch. i think about being pulled up effortlessly. strong hands at my waist, being guided toward ecstasy, and then having the tables turned. giggling at my ankles in the air, that intense look right into my eyes. i could never ever look away from him for long.
the sun is cool, my curtains fell down sometime in the night. i was hoping to sleep in, but the all of this bright keeps me awake. so i write, on a sharp point,gentle blade all but breaking the skin. for that i am not sorry. when i started, i felt like plunging the damn thing in and walking away. it is frustrating, all of this nudity. these lips, arms, legs, this face. this big empty bed. maybe i just need to be clubbed over the head and dragged into the cave. either way, the bed needs to move from one end of the room to the other and all of the people within shouting distance should be blushing.
No comments:
Post a Comment