(no subject)
i want to place everything at a distance, on the far side of the map. i want to spiral around the destination, doubled over with the yearning to come closer and the fear of coming close. the destination stays in the same spot.
coming close roughly pulls open the eyelids, dry pads of the fingers clutch desperately onto taunt skin and the ocean on the eyes go dry. the pupils blossoms. the blood spikes. the sudden zoom in make the details come so close they almost touch the surface of the pale eyes and it hurts so much. it hurts so much that the eyes curl into themselves and the eyelids want to hug themselves into the fetal position. it hurts so fucking much that every nerve in the body, ever single lonely cell strains to move into the opposite direction where all the dirty details melt together deliciously into an impressionist painting.
continue to live through impressions where flaws remain indistinct or sink into obscurity. continue to live through impressions where nothing hurts, where nothing touches, where nothing comes close and remains at a distance.
coming close roughly pulls open the eyelids, dry pads of the fingers clutch desperately onto taunt skin and the ocean on the eyes go dry. the pupils blossoms. the blood spikes. the sudden zoom in make the details come so close they almost touch the surface of the pale eyes and it hurts so much. it hurts so much that the eyes curl into themselves and the eyelids want to hug themselves into the fetal position. it hurts so fucking much that every nerve in the body, ever single lonely cell strains to move into the opposite direction where all the dirty details melt together deliciously into an impressionist painting.
continue to live through impressions where flaws remain indistinct or sink into obscurity. continue to live through impressions where nothing hurts, where nothing touches, where nothing comes close and remains at a distance.