....the weeds turn to roses.
"Charred Remains, Baby"
Last night I masterbated into the toilet down the hall. It was a strange feeling to be emptied of everything I could become and then to be filled with a relief or nausea. I flustered and grabbed a bit of wall that I could find in leaning over this bowl, and I finally flushed to watch my membranes fall like memories into a wave, circular and untouched. In moving away the mirror looked at me; saying nothing and giving away less. But in my own eyes secrets stared me down in tired anguish. I gazed forever, I moved closer. Around these blue irises the same child apeared before and nothing new came about, nothing more important learned about a being of twenty-five. But in a missing ring a strange shade of gray flustered and appeared as if never there before. "Had I ever looked into my own eyes?"; The only phrase that I could remember from then, but it occurred to me that I hadn't, and this cloud of dark gray, flowing down inside and out of me, could have been there all along. I rubbed the pink side of my face in confusion and wondered "why?", but it was a pointless question without means or ends. And backing away in damned near terror I chose not to remark or give another thought towards the poison that corroded my face, and markings I'll save for another day and keep them frozen as mysteries for now. This slow daze I still feel now filled me and unraveled itself before me, and I picked it up in leaving the bathroom for the night, hitting the flourescent lights. I stood just for a minute in the complete darkness and became curious of these new figures in black (or sometimes gray), that dressed themselves before me. They're new and were never there before, but alive and well now. I dare not gather the wonder to build back up and stare into my eyes for another late night snack. It was a short walk back to my room, and an early call for relaxation the next morning, a pointless feat in my days and nights spent mostly above the skin. But I never felt quite like I did when this forever I spent walking above creaky floor boards through the same darkness that I had always known, and still, even now, wondering whether or not someone, if not myself, still watched me in up above these charred remains of gray.
Last night I masterbated into the toilet down the hall. It was a strange feeling to be emptied of everything I could become and then to be filled with a relief or nausea. I flustered and grabbed a bit of wall that I could find in leaning over this bowl, and I finally flushed to watch my membranes fall like memories into a wave, circular and untouched. In moving away the mirror looked at me; saying nothing and giving away less. But in my own eyes secrets stared me down in tired anguish. I gazed forever, I moved closer. Around these blue irises the same child apeared before and nothing new came about, nothing more important learned about a being of twenty-five. But in a missing ring a strange shade of gray flustered and appeared as if never there before. "Had I ever looked into my own eyes?"; The only phrase that I could remember from then, but it occurred to me that I hadn't, and this cloud of dark gray, flowing down inside and out of me, could have been there all along. I rubbed the pink side of my face in confusion and wondered "why?", but it was a pointless question without means or ends. And backing away in damned near terror I chose not to remark or give another thought towards the poison that corroded my face, and markings I'll save for another day and keep them frozen as mysteries for now. This slow daze I still feel now filled me and unraveled itself before me, and I picked it up in leaving the bathroom for the night, hitting the flourescent lights. I stood just for a minute in the complete darkness and became curious of these new figures in black (or sometimes gray), that dressed themselves before me. They're new and were never there before, but alive and well now. I dare not gather the wonder to build back up and stare into my eyes for another late night snack. It was a short walk back to my room, and an early call for relaxation the next morning, a pointless feat in my days and nights spent mostly above the skin. But I never felt quite like I did when this forever I spent walking above creaky floor boards through the same darkness that I had always known, and still, even now, wondering whether or not someone, if not myself, still watched me in up above these charred remains of gray.