Sunday, June 27, 2010

Momentary betrayal

What does a mass of eels copulating and growing into a grayer, bigger ball, levitating, floating in the middle of a hollow skull feel? All violating images of you with magnified eyes through bottle glass and fleeing tired eyes that just rest on me. I bite my lips off there.

From the bureau of my very very infected dreamy buns,like an almost ecstatic moan of my very very rabied heart, I love the idea of violating you, an act in untying and denying, as you inch wider and the gaps grow, into the far reaching abyss of your speaking flower, the shrieking invitation from the moist 'u' pockets between your thumping rubber stamp toes.

After feeling so foolish, I sometimes wish there was a bag called universe/space/whatever and while I speak things that I know just before speaking should not be spoken, I could say them inside that bag. They are said, yet not. That would save me a lot of betraying emotions and further shame.

Once you leave, this is how I recuperate.

Experience and time

Experience is temporal. So is growth. To grow, is to bathe in time, ceremoniously. Let stream, drop, mugs and froth, all pour gradually, slide down and once gone, you know what growing means. Similar is experience, to throw yourself into something that you already know is not going to be extremely enjoyable or pleasant, for instance, to cheat on someone, or to wake up in all consciousness to keep an appointment; all are experiences that one must, while in their temporal space, endure. Look around while you inhabit them because that makes you a mere experience-r, not the inflicted/victim/perpetrator. Why do people find it so difficult to tone down their emotional responses to situations? I can almost 'ask' myself not to feel excited or disappointed. Performance, the more subtly you accept, the better it feels. Of course, for death, love, poetry and other such huge gusts of demanding impulses, one may give away a moment or so, but otherwise, in retrospect, to feel the untainted emotion in an experience is boring. Simply tedious and boring. Can't possibly go back to fall in unconditional, exciting love. So much energy and so many gestures.
And, then while swinging such in an empty park on a not-so-important sunny day with no one around, one may not feel the need and the consequent lack of anything at all.

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