(no subject)
She kept flexing her hand as if it was a distinct apparatus to the wrinkling of her brain. She flexed it with every thought, sometimes multiple times, if the thought warranted several degrees of investigation. The hand didn't ache though, so she started to feel the distance surrounded her hemispheres, as if her body, a geopolitical map, belonged to a different planet. An obsolete map that didn't make any difference to the realm where she was. She instantly thought of freeing a butterfly from a jar. But she had no jars and no butterflies to catch.
There was an ache, too, in her ear. A little throb like a swallow's heart beating too close to the inner ear canal, shuffling and shutting sound out with downy, dusty feathers. "That should go free too," she wished, but it dully marched on with her flexing hand. There was a pointlessness to her thinking, a caliber of relevancy that she often enjoyed. The path she was on was toward less analysis, less examination and more chaos. There were bodies around her in chaos, lovers, friends. She wanted to fear the idea that they might someday all go away, but that was such a cemented reality in her swarming hemispheres, that the two murky thunderstorms over her ribbed valleys didn't pay much mind to that wanted fear.
"Maybe that knowledge isn't real. And it is why I haven't believed in love, really. Only believed in myself." She mused to the swallow, who ignored her, and bathed in her ear canal with a sudden violence. She sighed. Again, with the base conception of cause and effect. Why don't I relieve myself of established plot lines. Maybe it isn't so damn simple. This was in her head, but she heard it out loud as well. She decided then that what she really wanted was to be wise. To not have to think everything through into holes like a beginning knitter's christmas gift scarf. To know, internally, why she and others, did what they did. So much irrational...."CHAOS!" squeaked the swallow and made her ear ache like another ear was growing on top of it. Ah yes. yes. Flex.
There was an ache, too, in her ear. A little throb like a swallow's heart beating too close to the inner ear canal, shuffling and shutting sound out with downy, dusty feathers. "That should go free too," she wished, but it dully marched on with her flexing hand. There was a pointlessness to her thinking, a caliber of relevancy that she often enjoyed. The path she was on was toward less analysis, less examination and more chaos. There were bodies around her in chaos, lovers, friends. She wanted to fear the idea that they might someday all go away, but that was such a cemented reality in her swarming hemispheres, that the two murky thunderstorms over her ribbed valleys didn't pay much mind to that wanted fear.
"Maybe that knowledge isn't real. And it is why I haven't believed in love, really. Only believed in myself." She mused to the swallow, who ignored her, and bathed in her ear canal with a sudden violence. She sighed. Again, with the base conception of cause and effect. Why don't I relieve myself of established plot lines. Maybe it isn't so damn simple. This was in her head, but she heard it out loud as well. She decided then that what she really wanted was to be wise. To not have to think everything through into holes like a beginning knitter's christmas gift scarf. To know, internally, why she and others, did what they did. So much irrational...."CHAOS!" squeaked the swallow and made her ear ache like another ear was growing on top of it. Ah yes. yes. Flex.