papermountains
I don't mind you coming here and wasting all my time. Just what I needed.
On vinyl no less, him touching my soft stomach.
A wake up call from those inverted ballads.
I wonder how much of my drive is cosmic or microcosmic. Do I follow lust like a scorpion's sting, death's cycles, the psychic energies pulsing through the stars on the day I was born? Or do i feel it deep through my skin, my muscles, my fabric tissues, the pulsing blood below?
I took photos of all these train stations for you.
They are something nostalgic, a generation before me which idolizes their industry. It's a moment like this when I can notice how much older you are than me. Your large hands on my thighs make you seem like you are within my grasp.
Antwerp station was reminiscent of a grand architecture only known to me through the pages of my heavy, worn, forest green art history book. Laying on my bed, nails tracing the lines of gold and red beams, blue panes of glass. All the while slowly growing towards womanhood, you were traveling in Europe with a former lover.
Where we touch each others braids and think about what its like to be women. Fables of tiny pink painted finger nails reaching deep down where they shouldn't. It makes them too excited but they do it anyways between the gossip and whispers about long legends whose creeping terrors still strike in anxious chests and flutter thighs.
He has greasy blonde hair and scruffy chops. And he is reminiscent of a fabled fallen prince I used to make, but he is shorter, and he is blunter, and he listens more to classic rock and less to moody goth jams... but here I am thinking about him instead of the boy I like.
Its those invisible threads that follow your feet as you hitched a ride down your gait. I don't understand where you get that swagger, that confidence. I haven't done what you've done, but you certainly haven't looked as deep and dark and far as I have. You should see the face of ugly and shameful and regrettable and tell me how much go-lucky left overs you have.
"Guurl, you just gotta keep the crazy in." she grinned as she gnawed on her cigarette.
"No, I know, I'm not going to SAAY that, but I've been thinking it and-"
"LOOK," she placed her palm on my shoulder, "You, like myself, like all these other women, we feel intensely. We don't like unless we love, we don't love unless we've hated. Your heart and mind is going to go there, even if you don't want to, even if in that moment you are coveting a sweet piece of man ass and a pair of wrestler's obliques," she lost her train of thought, biting her lip as she fantasied. She snapped back towards me, "BUT- with all of this, you must filter. Pall Mall style, keep a good enough space before your ready to let those truths touch your lips."
Its great and deep and dangerous. Its something that splits me in two. I'm so happy, so excited to feel this way about you, but if I say it out loud, what is it going to mean? If I say it to you, will you just shudder and turn away. We're both falling, its so stark and undeniable, but to go there again, its just scary. I'm going to keep writing out into the void because you make my face flush and red, and my heart ache in memory, my body rise and fall with breath, stretching and yawning to my fingertips, like a cat in the sun. I am in pleasure with you, I am in sync with you, you are a new morning light and can't say it but I think I fucking love you.
Dave Kelly, connected doesn't begin to describe the way I feel about you. I'm falling for you, its so far, its so deep, I'm so scared to go there. But I like you, I really like you, and I want to be close to you. I find you so sexy, intelligent, admirable, Dave Kelly I don't love you yet but I'm tripping towards that conclusion. Very soon I'll be in your lap thinking about how to languish my love for you and when its there, Dave, I'm not sure how I will feel. But right now, I am falling in love with you.
She moved her thighs, swishing them between her center, popping and pulsating them as they taughtly pulled against her tight little jeans. She put that extra step there, the last one, just to make me pine. No, it wasn't me, it was for everyone else, she wanted me to know their eyes were on her.
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writing since 2010 · 30 entries · 27 days shown up
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