|
[22 May 2008|12:29am] |
My hands cradle your face. I lie underneath you, I am pressed into fabric by your body. Your lips assault me, time and time again, I relent, I am yours. I am defeated. I love, and yet I am disconsolate. You lay waste to me and you leave me cold and naked, pushed into a curl and I shiver in your bushes. I long for salvation. I blink and I stretch fingers out towards dawn. I long for my lover, I lie, collapsed and entangled in you.
I lie underneath you. I smile. I drown as you douse, as you descend. I lie underneath you, I am flooded by you, and I cannot compete. Your smile hits me like a meteor. I kiss you, my heart disappears, I carress you, my fingertips dissolve, I let my skin ghost against yours, my body fragments...I am nothing. I am disintegrated, you overpower me. Your lips are the center, your hips overcome me, your eyes pin me to the wall.
I lie underneath you. My hands outstretched, my body prone.
|
|
|
[22 May 2008|09:58am] |
The holiday is nearly over. In some ways i'm glad, because although work is my biggest bugbear in life (Apart from the lack of a fuckin' woman) it'll be nice not sitting around full of nothing but my thoughts. I am sick to death of thinking. It knots my muscles and tires me out. Besides, i'm a man, I was born not to think.
Here's Zell's quote of the day:
"SAY WHAT?!!"
Idiot.
|
|
|
[22 May 2008|09:30pm] |
A wave of depression took me earlier. A dark, suffocating hand took hold of me and gripped tightly. I was really feeling quite desperately, as if nothing I do matters, and there isn't a reason for me to do a thing. I have this feeling often, though I don't often mention it. I tend to think that to do so constitutes attention seeking, and I wish to distance myself from that kind of thing. I used to be like that a lot, you see.
Sometimes, in the evening, I feel as if i've got nowhere. It's a regular feeling. It's why I go out to drink. I think it's loneliness, or boredom talking. It's possibly both. It's a feeling that i'm redundant, and nothing that I do makes any difference.
That's all it is. It's like i'm growing tired of just trying to be excited.
|
|