(no subject)
So, how many of you feel like you're being torn apart? Mashed together?
Just curious.
'Cause part of me wants nothing more than to rage. Some instinct cries out for open war upon all opposition and all obstacles between any objective my whims might carry and where I stand. It wants me to murder, burn, and utterly annihilate (note: not in a literal sense) with a cold, methodical efficiency. Any fear, any source of drama, any person that would cause me pain, manipulate me, use me for their own one sided comfort or pleasure would simply be stamped out of my world. Mountains would tumble, valleys would be filled. Oceans drained and seas boiled. God himself would be left bloodied in my wake if he dared to attempt to bar my path. And in the stillness of a world of my own fashioning I would find serenity.
And the other? An entirely different sort of need. It wants nothing more than the inexplicable comfort and habit of the fetal position. It craves the body curled beneath the airy cocoon of sun-warmed blankets with the odd tickle of a spring breeze drifting just beyond that scant barrier of soft fabric. And therein I would exist in that pleasant, half-asleep state where there is no worry, no urgency. Only the elusive sensation of rest filling every limb and sweeping away otherwise constant pain, sweeping away nearly every desire. All that would remain was that sort of vague want that curls the lips into a smile even before it is sated. And if another were to crawl beneath the blankets and burrow into me for warmth... well, then there would be nothing left to sate. And in the gentle warmth of sunlight filtered and dimmed by the blankets that wrap us I would find serenity.
But maybe it's just me.
Just curious.
'Cause part of me wants nothing more than to rage. Some instinct cries out for open war upon all opposition and all obstacles between any objective my whims might carry and where I stand. It wants me to murder, burn, and utterly annihilate (note: not in a literal sense) with a cold, methodical efficiency. Any fear, any source of drama, any person that would cause me pain, manipulate me, use me for their own one sided comfort or pleasure would simply be stamped out of my world. Mountains would tumble, valleys would be filled. Oceans drained and seas boiled. God himself would be left bloodied in my wake if he dared to attempt to bar my path. And in the stillness of a world of my own fashioning I would find serenity.
And the other? An entirely different sort of need. It wants nothing more than the inexplicable comfort and habit of the fetal position. It craves the body curled beneath the airy cocoon of sun-warmed blankets with the odd tickle of a spring breeze drifting just beyond that scant barrier of soft fabric. And therein I would exist in that pleasant, half-asleep state where there is no worry, no urgency. Only the elusive sensation of rest filling every limb and sweeping away otherwise constant pain, sweeping away nearly every desire. All that would remain was that sort of vague want that curls the lips into a smile even before it is sated. And if another were to crawl beneath the blankets and burrow into me for warmth... well, then there would be nothing left to sate. And in the gentle warmth of sunlight filtered and dimmed by the blankets that wrap us I would find serenity.
But maybe it's just me.