LOUISE. (pseudospork) wrote,
LOUISE.
pseudospork

a stream of consciousness writing piece

You sit there with your blue eyes and your perfectly hand-crafted latté. You smile and I see sadness behind it.
Yearning and longing for something unattainable, confusing. Not quite sure where love begins and where sadness ends.

Envelop me with your hands. Make me feel alive, like my life has purpose. Make me feel like a woman. Make me feel desirable. Give me something. Feed me. Feed the hole that sems to resemble an open sore that never quite heals.

Hide from something. Go undercover but throw on a smile.

Let's go down into the woods and lose ourselves.
Think nothing. Feel everything.

Question the changes around you. Make sense of the world and its innerworkings.

Feel the warmth. Live it, manifest it inside your sometimes soulless body.

Come into the lavishness of it all.
Dance it off.

Know that you can overcome what tempts you. What attacks you.
Ripples of water, wind swaying cattails and ducks with circular waves following forever. Be cute, be beautiful.

Your lies can float away in this atmosphere.
You need not hold onto anything. The beautiful departure.
Leaving behind, looking forward.

None of it matters. Absolutely nothing. Your hands move me without actually touching me.

Sparking energies are a mutual thing around us, none of us realizing we feel as one. Love does not really exist. Neither does hate. A different existence.

A beautiful pain can encompass us and one must thank the gods for its resonance.

Eat me alive. Show me my past. Make me your favor, your fashion. Eat me alive.

Tingles in my toes and that half eaten piece of bread with jam blankets this bleak scene.

Ridges and grooves give it texture. Grating me with 1,000 edges. Running in place.

I feel you. Cannot escape you. In the background of my being.

Fingers along my curves. Show me yourself. Intimacy, sensationalism, deceit, hypocrisy, denial.
Live and breathe the toxins emmited from the fickle black hole.

Beautiful roundness, in motion, oscillating. Swirling up my legs, sparks of energy in my brain.

I am but a young child. Treat me tenderly, with the utmost care.
Genderless, knowledgless, propertiless.

Floating.

Clear, thin, paper-thin. Invisible, see-through, transparent.
White bursts of mold on old food. Take out your steak knife and have a slice of me.

Run inside wooden mazes.
Fall down, warm pain resonating in your head.

Squeeze something. Attack yourself. Leech yourself onto what makes you tick.
Nibble your fingers to the bone. Shine like the sun and express all the creative energy you can.

The old man in the corner bends down. You are happy. Your eyes for a few lingering moments are at peace.
Hold me in your arms until the end of the universe.
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 1 comment