lips of pink and sweet in taste
She's humming the chorus. Her youth shakes through her limbs, an annoyance to me. It is dark in the apartment studio other than a thin bright beam of light which is illuminating her body. theres also a timid clip of a lamp above my drawing board, but it hardly counts. there is a vast chasm of empty darkness outside of the stage she sits upon. She's reclined on a bed. thick plush tapestries and maroon fabrics draped over the edges of the bed. but shes not concealed by any of it. her skin is radiant, a bright beacon piercing with angelic fervour, pale and blinding. it almost contains no volume, its just a diffused thin plane of light with long flawless curves.
her name is Beatrice. She's modeling nude, and there's something about her figure and her skin that makes me want to eat her body and rip her flesh off and wear it. i'm trying not to think about that though, as she's been really cool with letting me paint sketches of her. "put your left forearm onto your knee, palm down, with a limp wrist. fingers just grazing your shin." She nods and does so before resuming her story.
"i fucked him in a hot tub when he graduated grade number twelve." her voice is thick with french accent. english comes out of her mouth sounding sloppy and wet, as though you can hear amazing oral sex between her words. "that was two weeks prior to my fourteenth birthday. Just over a year and a half ago now." she moves her arm to bring a cigarette to her lips.
I'm using a projector to illuminate her body and cascade fake tattoos across her flesh. everytime she moves the tattoos curve and fold across her naked skin and the entire image and placement changes. she's nearly a decade younger than myself, and is more intense and experienced sexually beyond anything and everything known in my life. She exudes confidence and charisma. She swings her legs over the edge of the bed and confronts me directly, she stretches her arms in circles from the coy pose i had her in. there is nothing remotely coy about her exposed flesh right now. tentatively she runs a finger through fresh dark pubic hair. "i need to make pee." my hands shake as i nod and excuse her. she walks confidently through the darkness of the apartment, knowing her way around. she knows where to step to avoid the piles of mess. she is responsible for all the mess and has a comfortable knowledge in her own chaos.
she swings her hips and somehow it propels her forward, its not even like she walks by any normal sense of the word. she exits the bathroom with her arms flailing for balance. its all an act to look adorable as she steps over piles of clothes and other junk shes left here in the last month. in the refrigerator she cracks open a beer and balances in on top of a second for backup. she weighs all of ninety pounds and her midback dark hair is her only coverage. her breasts are small but shapely and quickly find their proper position without much movement.
my hands are unable to craft her in the second dimension. she arcs and flows like no pencil line. its a waste to try, i can only muster up a representation which hints at her motion, but it can never be set in place. i stoop away from the drawing board and shuffle to the couch letting my body collapse from exhaustion and frusteration of failure of another night of wasted paper.
"garçon d'art de sourire." she says with a curved smile hooking across her small face. "you need to get outside of yourself." she finds home on the couch with me straddling me over my abdomen. she drinks with great economy and little regard for etiquette. after placing the cans on the floor she lurches over me and gingerly places comfortable kisses onto my neck. beatriice is saying things in french which i cant understand but its slow and easy between moans and soft pouts. "wake up"
and i do wake up. on the floor at my brothers apartment in the dark. a clock tells me it is 8pm. ive been binge sleeping all day. i stand and in a fluid motion im already out the room and down the hall and out the door into the chilly dark night. i dont know where im going, my feet just needed to move i guess i head through blackness for about 12 minutes to a chevron. i buy 40oz of gross malt beer and head off to Arbies with a coupon for chicken sandwiches. i pay with debit and enter the PIN information with BEEP, BEEP BEEP...BEEP.... then a BOING for the enter key. i tell the cashier she may want to get the machine looked at, because it makes a boing on the enter key. shes laughing so hard its kinda scary. i motion back to the apartment and shut myself off in my room not saying a word to anyone. ive been sipping on my 40oz of vomit inducing alcohol and trying to unravel all the images in my head.
OfficeMax gave me my final check today for my last week of work. it should have been larger but i called in sick one day at Faryn's apartment so that we could make out and fool around. it was so much better than working. that was an incredible day. ive been having a lot of incredible days. its all thanks to her.
i dont know what direction anything is taking, i dont know what this looks like to anyone else, but i see great things. delusions of grandeur or inflated sense of selfworth. ego or arrogance. lies. im so stuck in my own inferiority and thought that im not deserving of my own life.
the cello mimics the human voice, and i pray for snow. i feel the need to chop firewood. fireweeod is a large part of misery in my childhood. stacking it endlessly. so much firewood. now all i want is to build fires and stare at flames. i want to get lost in thought, i do it so well. its an annoyance to those around me that i can stare off into oblivion so well for so long completely blocking out the world around me. i cant even narrate what im talking about, it takes too much cognitive energy to translate it all, it'd be like explaining a dream as it happens. you can just piece together fragments after the fact, you cant break it down as it happens. tonight i shall get properly lost and maybe learn something, and maybe learn everything. thats usually how all my great ideas get started.
to the ego of process!
to the engine which runs on love!
to the desire for life!
to the future world!
to the need for more!
to the antiquity of revelation!
to the embrace of emotion!
i salute your challenge and will murder you where you stand!
i am joe. boy striving for a better everything.
i do not fail.
grief nexus deus pale
-joe
her name is Beatrice. She's modeling nude, and there's something about her figure and her skin that makes me want to eat her body and rip her flesh off and wear it. i'm trying not to think about that though, as she's been really cool with letting me paint sketches of her. "put your left forearm onto your knee, palm down, with a limp wrist. fingers just grazing your shin." She nods and does so before resuming her story.
"i fucked him in a hot tub when he graduated grade number twelve." her voice is thick with french accent. english comes out of her mouth sounding sloppy and wet, as though you can hear amazing oral sex between her words. "that was two weeks prior to my fourteenth birthday. Just over a year and a half ago now." she moves her arm to bring a cigarette to her lips.
I'm using a projector to illuminate her body and cascade fake tattoos across her flesh. everytime she moves the tattoos curve and fold across her naked skin and the entire image and placement changes. she's nearly a decade younger than myself, and is more intense and experienced sexually beyond anything and everything known in my life. She exudes confidence and charisma. She swings her legs over the edge of the bed and confronts me directly, she stretches her arms in circles from the coy pose i had her in. there is nothing remotely coy about her exposed flesh right now. tentatively she runs a finger through fresh dark pubic hair. "i need to make pee." my hands shake as i nod and excuse her. she walks confidently through the darkness of the apartment, knowing her way around. she knows where to step to avoid the piles of mess. she is responsible for all the mess and has a comfortable knowledge in her own chaos.
she swings her hips and somehow it propels her forward, its not even like she walks by any normal sense of the word. she exits the bathroom with her arms flailing for balance. its all an act to look adorable as she steps over piles of clothes and other junk shes left here in the last month. in the refrigerator she cracks open a beer and balances in on top of a second for backup. she weighs all of ninety pounds and her midback dark hair is her only coverage. her breasts are small but shapely and quickly find their proper position without much movement.
my hands are unable to craft her in the second dimension. she arcs and flows like no pencil line. its a waste to try, i can only muster up a representation which hints at her motion, but it can never be set in place. i stoop away from the drawing board and shuffle to the couch letting my body collapse from exhaustion and frusteration of failure of another night of wasted paper.
"garçon d'art de sourire." she says with a curved smile hooking across her small face. "you need to get outside of yourself." she finds home on the couch with me straddling me over my abdomen. she drinks with great economy and little regard for etiquette. after placing the cans on the floor she lurches over me and gingerly places comfortable kisses onto my neck. beatriice is saying things in french which i cant understand but its slow and easy between moans and soft pouts. "wake up"
and i do wake up. on the floor at my brothers apartment in the dark. a clock tells me it is 8pm. ive been binge sleeping all day. i stand and in a fluid motion im already out the room and down the hall and out the door into the chilly dark night. i dont know where im going, my feet just needed to move i guess i head through blackness for about 12 minutes to a chevron. i buy 40oz of gross malt beer and head off to Arbies with a coupon for chicken sandwiches. i pay with debit and enter the PIN information with BEEP, BEEP BEEP...BEEP.... then a BOING for the enter key. i tell the cashier she may want to get the machine looked at, because it makes a boing on the enter key. shes laughing so hard its kinda scary. i motion back to the apartment and shut myself off in my room not saying a word to anyone. ive been sipping on my 40oz of vomit inducing alcohol and trying to unravel all the images in my head.
OfficeMax gave me my final check today for my last week of work. it should have been larger but i called in sick one day at Faryn's apartment so that we could make out and fool around. it was so much better than working. that was an incredible day. ive been having a lot of incredible days. its all thanks to her.
i dont know what direction anything is taking, i dont know what this looks like to anyone else, but i see great things. delusions of grandeur or inflated sense of selfworth. ego or arrogance. lies. im so stuck in my own inferiority and thought that im not deserving of my own life.
the cello mimics the human voice, and i pray for snow. i feel the need to chop firewood. fireweeod is a large part of misery in my childhood. stacking it endlessly. so much firewood. now all i want is to build fires and stare at flames. i want to get lost in thought, i do it so well. its an annoyance to those around me that i can stare off into oblivion so well for so long completely blocking out the world around me. i cant even narrate what im talking about, it takes too much cognitive energy to translate it all, it'd be like explaining a dream as it happens. you can just piece together fragments after the fact, you cant break it down as it happens. tonight i shall get properly lost and maybe learn something, and maybe learn everything. thats usually how all my great ideas get started.
to the ego of process!
to the engine which runs on love!
to the desire for life!
to the future world!
to the need for more!
to the antiquity of revelation!
to the embrace of emotion!
i salute your challenge and will murder you where you stand!
i am joe. boy striving for a better everything.
i do not fail.
grief nexus deus pale
-joe