Wednesday
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Time. Words. Promises. Lies. Truths. Tears. Laughs. Lust. Lust. Lust. An endless, deep, thick, overbearing hunger. That nothing, not even time, not even dirt, not even light would appease. Not even life.
It’s one of those things. One of those moments. That was coming, that was inevitable, that has already passed. Just not mentioned. Dancing around the good conscience of our social circles. A feather floating above the hole of everything that wasn’t there.
Demons are not only meant to be battled against. I was seduced by mine. It was quite pleasant.
What happened with your battle? When did you start fighting again? I only knew when you lost. I wish you didn’t tell me about your victory. I wish you were lying in a ditch, badly hurt. So I could kneel before you and tend to your wounds.
But already you’re up. Walking amongst the debris. Away. I don’t even wish you’d look back. I can’t even stand that.
—o0SOS0o—
So it’s over.
Strange. Weird. Predictable.
I cried over today months ago.
I was just to lazy to say so.
No that’s not true.
I was afraid.
To go back to my coma. To the place I left months ago. To the person I was.
Now would be a good time to realize I made this happen. I lived through it.
I changed. There is no way I’m going back.
So only for that, I will say thank you. And for your eyes.
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Hands
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Extended, reaching, fingers unfurled.
A thin thread of humanity weaved through silences that strain to split from the touch.
So close the heat to my skin, but still only an impression. Or an illusion.
Bearing a pain that has no foundation in change, in movement.
Carrying scents of dreams never dreamt, but imagined, eyes opened.
Resting on smiles hidden for too long, dead after being released.
Escalading bodies and hours and promises, holding the truth hostage.
Wearing gloves like a bad suit, to be protected from what was put there in the first place to be touched naked.
Playing with visions soft enough to be molded into what it was supposed to be.
Caressing the past against the grain.
Such are my hands, such are yours. Never meant to touch, never meant to part.
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Samsonnesse
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Today I’m having my hair cut. At 4.30pm I will sit in the hairdresser’s chair for the first time in three years.
It’s very long, down to my waiste, curly, dark brown with red and copper natural highlights and some gray… I wear it up half the time. But when it’s down, it’s a powerful thing. When I wear low rise jeans with a short top I feel it on my skin, right above my butt. When I’m naked, I love the feeling against my back. I use it as a tool, for my many trades. It gives me composure. Something to do with my hands when I’m nervous, deflect tension during a conversation, comfort me when I’m insecure.
The longer it got, the more important it became. A part of who I was and a part of who I’ve become.
Now I’m growing more nervous as the day goes by. Because my impulse is to tell the girl to just trim the ends… But no. I’m going to bring out a whole person out of this. The last string attached to a past I’ve been trying to settle.
Some people tell me, “Come on! It’s only hair!” Heeemmmm, no. It’s not.
I’ll go pass out now.
EDIT…
Ok, I survived.
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Pas mes mots
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Ballade de la vie en rouge
L’un toujours vit la vie en rose,
Jeunesse qui n’en finit plus,
Seconde enfance moins morose,
Ni vœux, ni regrets superflus.
Ignorant tout flux et reflux,
Ce sage pour qui rien ne bouge
Règne instinctif : tel un phallus.
Mais moi je vois la vie en rouge.
L’autre ratiocine et glose
Sur des modes irrésolus,
Soupesant, pesant chaque chose
De mains gourdes aux lourds calus.
Lui faudrait du temps tant et plus
Pour se risquer hors de son bouge.
Le monde est gris à ce reclus.
Mais moi je vois la vie en rouge.
Lui, cet autre, alentour il ose
Jeter des regards bien voulus,
Mais, sur quoi que son œil se pose,
Il s’exaspère où tu te plus,
Œil des philanthropes joufflus;
Tout lui semble noir, vierge ou gouge,
Les hommes, vins bus, livres lus.
Mais moi je vois la vie en rouge.
-Verlaine
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A movement
Did you feel the shift? Was there a shift?
As silences grew big enough to swallow the sounds
My stride stopped by a sudden change in the melody
The song remains the same, turned low
Meaning can be found between days of noise
Much more than between lines that were never written
The idea of what is and what should never be
Is lost in the caves of my good conscience
When the well is dry is when everything is real
The realities catch up to the dreams
And kill the thought that they ever happened
But for a single note that I still hear
When the words no longer speak their music
When the memories no longer evoke the living
A shift happens
Did you feel the shift?
Was there a shift?
Oh how I wish I'd breath once more
The air filled with the ghosts of chance
The promise of freshly fallen rain
And the warmth of spring's embrace
XXX + X (wow, original comme titre)
Je suis étendue sur le lit, j’attends. Mes cheveux sont encore mouillés. J’ai gardé mes bas. Noirs, mi-cuisse, avec une couture derrière la jambe. Tu arrives, passe une main le long de mes jambes, les écarte un peu, explores ma vulve, mes lèvres, je suis déjà mouillée, alors tu mets ton doigt dans ma bouche pour que j'y goûte.
Tu me tourne sur le ventre, te mets à genoux entre mes cuisses et prends mes hanches pour me relever, me mettre à quatre pattes. Tu prends une poignée de mes cheveux, tires pour relever ma tête, mords mon cou, et parles tout bas dans mon oreille, pour me dire que c'est maintenant, je le sais, tu vas mettre ta queue en moi, tu vas me fourrer, et j'ai peur un peu, je ne veux pas que ça fasse mal, mais tu ne me laisse pas le temps d'y penser, et ta grosse queue, je la sens pousser contre mes lèvres, fort, et tu y es, tu me baise, et j'arrive pas à prendre mon souffle, parce que tu y vas vraiment fort, et je te sens vraiment loin en moi, au bout.
Tu craches un peu sur mon cul, tu me tapes, parce que je suis vraiment une salope, et tu mets un doigt dans mon cul, pour le préparer. Tu arrêtes, soudainement. Tu te retires. Je suis un peu inquiète, je ne sais pas ce que tu vas faire. Tu me dis de me coucher sur le dos et de relever les jambes, très haut. quand tu vois ma vulve, mon cul, comme ça, t'as vraiment juste envie de m'enculer, alors sans rien dire, tu t'appuie avec un bras sur mes jambes, et avec ta main libre tu prends ta queue et tu la pousse contre mon cul, mon souffle s'arrête, je suis certaine que ça ne rentre pas, mais tu ne t'arrêtes même pas, et tu continue a pousser, et je crie un peu, mais il est trop tard tu es déjà loin en moi.
Ça va, tu sors lentement, reviens, plus vite, plus fort. Jusqu'à ce que tu sortes complètement de moi, m'enjambes, et viennes mettre ta queue et tes couilles dans mon visage. Ça sent bon, et je passe ma langue dessus, tu mets ta queue dans ma bouche un peu, et tu la ressors, tu viens, tu éjacules dans mon visage, mes yeux, mes joues, mes lèvres, et je sors ma langue pour en avoir un peu.