(no subject)
Mar. 16th, 2007 08:53 pmNonsensical post-extreme.
Beating my head against the wall. Right here, right now; heart hammering. And being beholden, being a chore is a bitter, bitter pill lodged in my throat. That thing that bites,
rickysbaby? I am he.
Self-comfort in a steaming bowl of soup. I do not take what I see as abandonment well.
Sly, graceful fingers push the napkin sneaky-sideways across the dark wooden table to me. They are long and smooth and neat and what comes from them is of the fantastical, always. Detailed figures of somehow sensual sea cucumbers, shining and gelatinous along the deep ocean's floor - and mushrooms with tight, muscular thighs, poised to jump.
The pen turns from black to green to black, again.
The eyes spark and flash, from bemused patience to outright want, trying to make me crack; to lose my facade amongst all this pitterpatter smalltalk.
Beating my head against the wall. Right here, right now; heart hammering. And being beholden, being a chore is a bitter, bitter pill lodged in my throat. That thing that bites,
Self-comfort in a steaming bowl of soup. I do not take what I see as abandonment well.
Sly, graceful fingers push the napkin sneaky-sideways across the dark wooden table to me. They are long and smooth and neat and what comes from them is of the fantastical, always. Detailed figures of somehow sensual sea cucumbers, shining and gelatinous along the deep ocean's floor - and mushrooms with tight, muscular thighs, poised to jump.
The pen turns from black to green to black, again.
The eyes spark and flash, from bemused patience to outright want, trying to make me crack; to lose my facade amongst all this pitterpatter smalltalk.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-17 01:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-17 01:31 am (UTC)If there was a pill made for this, I would willfully OD.