cinniie
I thought first of putting you in a trance, but I want you to enter into my trance of your soul, my ability to entice you with sweet words and sly eyes. And I want you reduced to nothing under me. I am a succubus and dangerous to you but it is hard to resist welcomes, hard not to turn the knob and answer the door when you hear those first knocks, soft and abrupt, a trio of, "Let me in to destroy you."
I feel like to many violence is the way we tame our wounds, but we need to be civil, they say. Calmer. Look our offenders in the eye and smile politely. Does it mean to roll over and forgive blindly, to let you win when they say we are restless? Well, it is true that I do rest less because what peace of mind is there with the ruckus and the noise and the apathy? We are never much good to ourselves at all.
Everything is a fresh start. I watch to be cleaner, inside and outside, I think. I want to start feeling good. Just give me fruits and your spare time because I like knowing that my body is on par with my mind. I want to be clean. I want to be perfect and maybe I want to be whatever it is that goodness means to the rest of the world.
I am trying to be happy all the time. It's a bright light of genuine energy that consumes me. I think of you and I feel a rush of euphoria. I was drunk last night but I didn't feel it quite then; I was instead just barely the surface of alive. I was "free" but only you sustain happiness and I cannot create it with other objects, only through love. And I thank you for that.
Despite how you feel about the situation and yourself, I think you have so much to live for. You are worth saving, worth pulling from the ledge where you teeter when you contemplate that dark. I do not wish to save you. Only you can do that or want that and I want to hold you and say, "LOOK UP," and maybe you will keep trying.
Everything is a mess. We just do things, we move, we are out of order. Little machines, I said. Clicking. Whirring. I liked the wheels, the roundness of us moving and panicking and never really getting from A to B; we were awful. I loved the chaos, we were only chaos, and there was brilliance in the fury of our of limbs.
The music was too loud, I think. Blaring, so that I couldn't hear anything but the sounds and my own footsteps dancing with me and everything seemed blurry outside of my line of vision. The headphones made it easier to forget the world, to detach from it, because without it I was accosted by the talk of strangers or the wail of car horns and here there was only peace beside me.
Realizing something about him and trying to come to terms with it, makes sense of it. Not sure where to go from here, with his words a bad aftertaste on the tongue, and again lingered something of him: a scent or maybe a thread of peace and I would think of this moment. I realized that I was being ridiculous. That I was deluding myself into this and that it would have been foolish of me to continue on with this hopeless pining.
I often felt like I was sinking, like the world around me was was a huge inescapable darkness. Things choked me, my own inhibitions or the way it felt to be alone. Whenever left to confront myself, I faced that terrible threat of sinking.
I missed you and this feeling you brought with you when you came around. your face haunts me in the dead of the night with nothing to show for it but aches and burns. How i forgot what you looked like, how you felt. I forgot what it was like to breathe good air and tell you of my favorite things.