No Meds

With hairs on neck bristled, I kept reading. The rhythm of the words made me want to move and the seduction of the narrative caused my lip to quiver. The lights low and the silence surrounding me creating a vacuum, I found myself victim, or rather slave to my own contorted ways of thinking. Alone, I shuttered at the ideas proposed and ran a numbed finger across the page. The wind outside convinced a tree branch to scrape the window creating a friction between my peace and I. I sprung to me feet expecting more of an intrusion, but there was nothing more. It was all a clever distraction for everything to slip away. The colors, shapes, and sounds blended into a clamor of unease. I erased the unwanted and continued to adjust myself properly to a faulty idea that I existed for a reason, if I truly did exist. The soft walls beckoned me as they began to bleed down to the cold, white tile that was my bed. I put my fingers to the trail of descending life and wonder how far down the rabbit hole I am, if there was ever a rabbit hole.

Do you know of a clear path to euphoria?

Disbelief, in any form, is denial of the undeniable due to the idea of superiority to ones self when faced with the obstacle of fairness.

I am still thirsty.

The  fingers on my right hand tap a syncopated frustration while my left hand, oh that left hand, decides it wants to strangle the life out life before it dies to be reborn as more life and death never comes. Oh sweet release never comes.

Am I rambling?

I notice the book. Not calling, but screaming to me, “You wretch!” I know its opinion, I am that opinion. I never asked for any of these treats, they just fell next to me and decided to keep me company.

Ha, they said there was no way out. They didn’t count on this. Who are they by the way? All I can make out are white coats and black shoes that click clack down what I assume is some kind of corridor in some kind of wing of some kind of building where I may or may not be.

But I digress and instead look for salvation in the soft pages full of lush metaphors and lyrical prose much like silk. I can’t tell how much time I have squandered if I have squandered time and if indeed time does exist because I’m not afforded a time piece. They say I could hurt myself.

They think that wouldn’t be very nice if I did that.

However, there is only so much they know, and what little they do know won’t help. My saviour, brother, and lover in one seeks me out.

I alone wait to be alone no more.


The Following of Fata

The Following of Fata

The hunger strikes me, elevating my stomach into my throat. Far too long has the moon played the dirty trick of changing shape, but I could smell her. Fresh and virginal, untouched by the duplicitous heart or hand of man. My natural instinct was to devour her like life can a mental invalid. Her sway as she walked was hypnotic, I found my mind flailing for release. I rearranged my shirt and straightened my tie. I had to make my approach.

She was twirling to music only she could hear, she was a ball of happiness. She would be mine. I hastened my step and was a mere three paces behind her. I imagined she could feel my breath on her neck while I envisioned my lips making their way from her ear to the small of her neck. My eyes glazed over in a premature elation, I was addicted to a flavor I had yet to taste. Her flesh caught the moon light and listened as if she had bathed in star dust. My lips quivered at the thought of making her lips quiver and her body convulse with unbridled ecstasy. To touch her divinity I would die, I would kill.

My tongue moved behind my teeth longing to taste her. I wanted to drink her in, fall asleep in her arms, and dream of us buried within each other’s atmosphere. Two paces. My composure was coming more undone the closer I got to her. She was the breeze through my hair, she was the perfume passing beneath my nose. I reflected on my patience and decided I couldn’t be patient much longer. I had to capture this butterfly. Spread her wings and kiss gentle flesh. I would know the pleasure of her. My body trembled with anticipation and a shudder set me motionless. I watch in misery as the distance between us grew. I wanted to scream to her to wait.

Again, I woke from a dream that was a dream about a dream. She was fluid, she was ether, and she was gone. I believed this time I would feel her skin brush against mine. I was for certain that our mouths would mingle their spices and we would be struck numb in that moment and erase ourselves together. For naught, my bed empty.

Melt with Me

Melt with Me

Tongue to flesh. Ripping. Fingers tracing razor lines. Gripping from behind, stabilizing. Our love, our torment. Suspended from reality we break away towards our special place inside something born out of nothing. Our muscles now atrophied from the time we’ve layed and bled into one another. Our dance is our dance, who are they to mumble any words under breath.

Caught in your arms. Falling. Dropping farther down. Too high of a dose of reality sprayed into our faces. As petulant and rotten as the ripeness of our sweat ridden sheets. Our love covers all the imperfections except for ours because that is where we connect and make our perfection.

I wail into the wind. Held high. I crawl out of you. Satiated. On knees holding breath, I exist. On back finding myself in your eyes, I’m seen. Blanket me with your loves perfume, snap me back to a dream half remembered. You were standing there. I inhaled so shallow that it felt like my last gasp. You took me there. Without you death would only be five paces.

         Twisting and turning. Don’t faulter. Burning from the bottom. Find the light switch. And you believed in it, in this. Did you find the proper illumination here? With me, within me. Expectations were thrown away. Smile