But I am someone else
25th September 2008with cock in satin and a letter to an ex-boyfriend that will never be posted I am all these lonely stalkers at night and we are all just lonely lovers who can’t love each other oh god oh god so sad so sad you should fuck me
Just you know
pretty hard like
Touch me, touch me, touch me
please touch me
there and there and there
don’t stop
okay stop
Again
slower
slowly
no, no
yes, yes
NO
Okay, yes
Yes
Yes
Please don’t let me
disappear
with your fingers
crushed between
the folds of my labia
my body exists
on this mortal plane
Without prodding
I am thoughts
disembodied words
and much of nothing
Go away
I have a headache
from stunted creativity
and emotional
overindulgence
and cooler stuff besides
Do you still love me?
25th September 2008 at 7:47 pm
Oh fuck Ani…”please don’t let me disappear” i love this, and you and everything you write. now if i could just stop crying…. :)
26th September 2008 at 2:05 am
I’m not sure. Let me sleep on it.
27th September 2008 at 8:22 am
just to mix my metaphors a moment, I would give my right leg to have the sort of headache that causes stunted creativity, if this is the end result . . .
27th September 2008 at 10:46 pm
Thehappymisfit: You can’t disappear, not really. I would kiss you, if I could. And then you’d know, sweetheart.
Paul: If you didn’t before, you probably won’t start now. ;)
AUW: I would give my right leg for some jerk chicken. Oh, and also … *blush*
28th September 2008 at 12:01 pm
desperately wonderful …
(i’m in ridiculously succinct mood today *grin)
sometimes there isn’t anything that “proves” i’m still here, wherever that is … and mostly it’s free-er to be disembodied anyway! *shudders at past-vampires who made meals of my thoughts …
28th September 2008 at 12:42 pm
A couple of words jumped out at me here - ‘lonely lovers’ (try ‘lonely fuckers’) and ‘crushed between’ (‘crammed’ feels better since the labia here is not the active party but the receptive one; in another context I’d argue the other way). Actually I’m not sure I like ‘crammed’ that much either but it’s your poem, not mine.
Writing about sex is hard. I steer clear of it for the most part but you do a good job here and I agree that ‘Please don’t let me / disappear’ is a great couple of lines.
28th September 2008 at 4:20 pm
Shell: I know what you mean, Shell. And sometimes, there’s someone who grounds you and without whom you could easily float away on the steam of your own refuse. ;) [And thank you.]
Jim: Cheers, Jim. I wouldn’t have said ‘fuckers’ because I unequivocally meant ‘lovers’. Also, I said ‘crushed’ because the speaker is very much an active participant, and very much the main instigator.
Maybe for a more accurate physical picture I should have said ‘crushed between my thighs’, but that’s a bit of a cliché, isn’t it? I wanted to be explicit and the word ‘labia’ is embarrassing to me, so I wanted to use it.
You’re right, writing about sex is hard (pun intended?) That’s why I never write only about sex. Usually when I refer to sex I’m writing about something else entirely. Usually.
30th September 2008 at 4:00 pm
I’m curious, but are you sure (and this is only my perspective) you don’t want to disappear, if even for a moment?