Meet my Muse
This is going to be a loooooong morning. I can tell already. I want to write something that will interest me but I am too tired to think. Hum. Wait. Maybe I should tell you why I am tired.... now THAT will interest me!
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Thud.
I rouse slightly. What is hitting my house?
Thud smak Thud
I have left my window wide open and I begin to smell it. Like smelling salts to my dream splattered brain it shifts under my nose and places me sprawled upon my sheets. I am warm.
"Please come." The receiver heavy in my hand, the clouds heavy over my head.
It is hitting harder, the sporadic rhythm becoming even and I am beginning to feel desperate, what if I miss it?
I hear his engine, the low rumble of a Tahoe Limited slipping into my drive.
"Follow me."
I adore men who have shaved their heads and are no taller than 5'10" as I can reach up and feel everything with ease. I lead him outside and he doesn't care that it is raining, that he is clothed in daywear and I in night. I speak so little when near him. There doesn't seem to be a need, communication is in the eyes and the tips of the fingers that are spreading across skin beginning to become slippery from the rain.
I have a place in my yard that is hidden from humans. It is open to the blinking eyes of the sky and soft purple petals from the princess flower tree litter the ground around it. I find it and get on my knees, my hair halfway to saturation, his hands smearing the strands from my face. I place my hands on his hips, feeling the power of my position, my submission to his religion. He becomes free from the threads surrounding him and I taste the skin, wet and warm.
When he grabs me it is to peel off the layers of fabric that is plastered to my skin. I am breathing hard and unable to see as the sky has opened up and is now beating me with its fists of condensation. I slide against him, against the slippery grass, beneath a gray mass. Layers of skin made in Korea are stripped from me and I am suddenly a snake, the scales the cells of my epidermal layer.
It feels as if I am lying upon a marsh. Water is pouring on top of me and everywhere I grab I find my grip sliding, my fingers silk, my hair a tangled mass of rope that he holds onto as I mate in the dark, semen fertilizing my lungs from the air turned liquid. Muted yellow lights grin from the building behind me and I notice that the air is cool and swift.
The clouds are heavy no more as they slip away.
------------~*~--------------
Thud.
I rouse slightly. What is hitting my house?
Thud smak Thud
I have left my window wide open and I begin to smell it. Like smelling salts to my dream splattered brain it shifts under my nose and places me sprawled upon my sheets. I am warm.
"Please come." The receiver heavy in my hand, the clouds heavy over my head.
It is hitting harder, the sporadic rhythm becoming even and I am beginning to feel desperate, what if I miss it?
I hear his engine, the low rumble of a Tahoe Limited slipping into my drive.
"Follow me."
I adore men who have shaved their heads and are no taller than 5'10" as I can reach up and feel everything with ease. I lead him outside and he doesn't care that it is raining, that he is clothed in daywear and I in night. I speak so little when near him. There doesn't seem to be a need, communication is in the eyes and the tips of the fingers that are spreading across skin beginning to become slippery from the rain.
I have a place in my yard that is hidden from humans. It is open to the blinking eyes of the sky and soft purple petals from the princess flower tree litter the ground around it. I find it and get on my knees, my hair halfway to saturation, his hands smearing the strands from my face. I place my hands on his hips, feeling the power of my position, my submission to his religion. He becomes free from the threads surrounding him and I taste the skin, wet and warm.
When he grabs me it is to peel off the layers of fabric that is plastered to my skin. I am breathing hard and unable to see as the sky has opened up and is now beating me with its fists of condensation. I slide against him, against the slippery grass, beneath a gray mass. Layers of skin made in Korea are stripped from me and I am suddenly a snake, the scales the cells of my epidermal layer.
It feels as if I am lying upon a marsh. Water is pouring on top of me and everywhere I grab I find my grip sliding, my fingers silk, my hair a tangled mass of rope that he holds onto as I mate in the dark, semen fertilizing my lungs from the air turned liquid. Muted yellow lights grin from the building behind me and I notice that the air is cool and swift.
The clouds are heavy no more as they slip away.