Stare
Stare at this to make myself write about these thoughts that I've had and these urges unnamed. Look at these words and those times I thought of how I'd be seen and those eyes that would percieve my being. Wonder at the other and wonder at the chance and wonder no more. Drive yourself to this. Insignificance. I have nothing to say. I have nothing to
( Read more... )
Everything merges eventually " everything is organic. It's impossible to distinguish one thing from another thing. When your mind is emptied of selfishness, it crumbles and dissolves in the water. If I cut at my body and concentrate correctly, I won't feel it. Each time my heart beats, it jerks violently and whips spine loose, tugging at the base of my brain. Memories move through the clotted and rotting forest inside my head and crush the present beneath them. My memories don't belong to me. They're as unknowable as a centipede fluttering its legs in the dark corner beneath the sink. When an image moves through my nervous system, it's with the predatory greed of an intruder. My body's laid open, transparent, defenseless. Each second of time is an individual insect feeding on my blood.
When my wife and I joined our bodies together, I fell into her body and wore her skin like a rubber sheath. She protected me from the outside. Because she's dead now, I'm certain to be eaten soon. I'm a skinless body, my muscles drying in the sun. I feel myself shrinking.
I used her as a process, a system through which we could blend with matter beyond our selfish thoughts. When her hand stroked my leg, when her mouth wet my skin, the arousal I experienced was the first wave of a current which would ultimately erase us both. I love her more than I need my own identity. Though her body lies here in the table before me, I don't need to open my eyes to see it in detail, to feel it physically saturate my senses. Love allows microbes and viruses to pass through my body without resistance. In loving her, I lose the will to live. If I eat her body now, I'll take her back into myself. But with each mouthful I swallow, I'll remove a commensurate amount of myself.
Her fragrance lifts up shimmering above her in a mist and flavors the air with honey. Her breasts have now begun to slide down the hill of her ribs, rotting, no longer firm with arrogance or inflated with the promise of fertility. The nipples I once took into my mouth and sucked and chewed, stand straight as if in defiance against the retreat of the body of her breast down her side. Gravity is pulling her down into itself like quicksand. Her belly is shifting, emitting obscure demonic incantations from inside its depths as it breeds gas while decomposing.
Looking down at her open mouth, I can still remember the taste, the slightly caramel flavor of her saliva, and feel the rubbery resistance of her tongue slipping into my mouth, circling across my teeth, wrapping itself around my tongue. But now, an open cave in her face displays the dead thick leather tongue like the cadaver of a beached sea mammal, crawled into the dark space of her mouth to hide from the sun and the swarming flies. Her lips, which were once a rare fruit I sucked for juice, are now shriveled and cracked like a dried apricot. Her eyes stare back up at me, searing my face with corrosive acid. My tears drain slowly down the corners of my eyes, thick as mineral oil.
Reply
Leave a comment