Under Pressure
I've been writing a lot recently, so why not post it here. Just a few selections from the prose I've written this year:
Push Pump
Heart beats pumping in unison. Pumping in undiscovered, inevitable creation. Pumping out life blood, life lessons, life to death.
Pushing out hard breath. Fresh existence, soon sweat, soon tears, later death. All pushed out.
Five years coursing through a coma catatonic state.
Somewhere between conception and suicide there's a feeling of thriving. A sensual desire for sipping that seductive seedy sustenance.
Biting the apple numbs the tongue. System shutdown, shut off, shut out such cravings.
Now I'm pumping, I'm pushing, I'm praying for feeling. Where is my feeling fingertips touch nothing on my tongue taste true for love in my heart in my heat in my wounds in my
crushed
creationless
beatless heart.
False Divinity
I felt you today.
Little explosions
shattering my crystal muscle,
scratching at my polished exterior like a lover's broken
promise not to break me.
Are you praying to me now?
This position of sweet devotion turns my skin to gold.
My nails claw ivory marks into your
paper paths.
Wrap me three times in silk.
Once for the view,
twice for your own security,
again, to ensure I am bound.
Applaud Charlotte for creating such lovely constraints.
I secretly wish this fog never lifts,
revealing my glitter for its true tincture:
Rust from years of rain and neglect.
Kneeling, praying.
Kiss my simple feet until each toe is a precious stone,
stroke my legs until they are forever reeled in satin.
I'd beg you to stop
but your touch stimulates my blood to flow like rivers of bittersweet wine.
Drink it for one divine glimpse of our eternal eden.
Because none of my friends read this, I guess I can be a little more open. Push Pump was written to express how numb my life was. I was born, I've done nothing, now I feel nothing. False Divinity, on the other hand, was written shortly after when someone had finally broken through my apathy, but I feared the feeling because I was sure it was only due to the fact that he made me feel godlike, supreme beyond my own simple existence. Of course, I was right to feel wrong, and now I am back to feeling more like Push Pump.
Push Pump
Heart beats pumping in unison. Pumping in undiscovered, inevitable creation. Pumping out life blood, life lessons, life to death.
Pushing out hard breath. Fresh existence, soon sweat, soon tears, later death. All pushed out.
Five years coursing through a coma catatonic state.
Somewhere between conception and suicide there's a feeling of thriving. A sensual desire for sipping that seductive seedy sustenance.
Biting the apple numbs the tongue. System shutdown, shut off, shut out such cravings.
Now I'm pumping, I'm pushing, I'm praying for feeling. Where is my feeling fingertips touch nothing on my tongue taste true for love in my heart in my heat in my wounds in my
crushed
creationless
beatless heart.
False Divinity
I felt you today.
Little explosions
shattering my crystal muscle,
scratching at my polished exterior like a lover's broken
promise not to break me.
Are you praying to me now?
This position of sweet devotion turns my skin to gold.
My nails claw ivory marks into your
paper paths.
Wrap me three times in silk.
Once for the view,
twice for your own security,
again, to ensure I am bound.
Applaud Charlotte for creating such lovely constraints.
I secretly wish this fog never lifts,
revealing my glitter for its true tincture:
Rust from years of rain and neglect.
Kneeling, praying.
Kiss my simple feet until each toe is a precious stone,
stroke my legs until they are forever reeled in satin.
I'd beg you to stop
but your touch stimulates my blood to flow like rivers of bittersweet wine.
Drink it for one divine glimpse of our eternal eden.
Because none of my friends read this, I guess I can be a little more open. Push Pump was written to express how numb my life was. I was born, I've done nothing, now I feel nothing. False Divinity, on the other hand, was written shortly after when someone had finally broken through my apathy, but I feared the feeling because I was sure it was only due to the fact that he made me feel godlike, supreme beyond my own simple existence. Of course, I was right to feel wrong, and now I am back to feeling more like Push Pump.