Extend your mind, and I'll extend my hand.
Disclaimer: Despite the content, and style I am for a change fucking proud of this bit of writing, because its not often I like what I write, so just for that alone I will be happy, theres only the slightest of personal contact, so don't think to much.
Its much the way that music would carry you along notes and vibrations, that utter subliminity of it all. If one were never to witness the sun again, what would they do.. would they hurtle themselves into the wall and kick and scream or meet their fate with a silent stoicism, of movement paused from that moment on. And what could you concieve to lose your sight and rely on your memories, would they outdo themselves in their brilliance, floating waves of saturation upon another.. would you weep? or would you be still and not move.
If I asked, would you say that you loved me, not like a mother to its child, or a man to his wife. But would you love me.. its a question that really requires no answer, for the equation is not set in stone at all.. and this song darling, hurt me.. no the song is pearly* Is it not sublime, and if I coveted your hand would you give it to me, to trace up the lifeline and over the Mount of Venus.. to kiss the braceletes that circle your wrist with care, and the breath in the hollow of your elbow.. would you lay it there for me in all your glory.
Its not that I love you, its that small moment under the stars exhaling the nicotine stained breath and musing on the blank of it all, while your tongue makes love to your teeth, over the ridges and around.. into the gaps and hollows, how intriguing in a totally dissmilar way, luck velvet draped windows in huge drawing rooms.. beauty in the eye of the beholder. I want so many things, my whimsical nature demands that, for now its heavy drapes of claret velvet and tassles to hook in and hold, corsets cinched in .. a milimetre of breath.. tight to feel the bruised bone scream.
And he is back.. my wanderlust lover.. he's back. The one that drives me under and pushes me upto the surface, he winds himself around me tongue extended into orfices where legs should shut, and you would push his head down further, kissing of the inner thigh and knee and it would drive you insane, that all you want is fulfillment of the flesh.. I can feel... see it's beady eyes.. and how it fucking kills you one breath at a time, that such passionate arrogance should exist within your own body, and you should be walking the tripline of cocaine and heroin.. you should but you never would, and that would be fucking blasphemy in your books, to rely on a alternate source of eroticism slash freedom of the imagination slash mind.
Would you reach for my hand, would you even follow me down.. follow me d o w n .. down where there is nothing but leaves, bark and natures earth, peel back the green-purple and immerse yourself into what I want, would you do that for me if I asked? I wonder this, if I asked you to follow me.. could you let go and walk, to follow me.. I would hold of your hands and kiss every finger hide them in mine, I would do that. I would follow you down, for you belong to me and I would hunger to possess of your body and your eyes, your beautiful eyes those that hold no fear.
And the tempo changes, or maybe that was the concious decision to stop writing because you realise that to push is to push hard, and this is enough.. more than enough for you, and enough for them to read.. its a moment where you have pushed through the canvas of skin and grabbed the living organ and squeezed only to relax when you think you should relax.. breathe slow, breathe. The lights shine dim in the corners of the room, and that is all you see.. all I need..
Raise your head and look at me .. smile.