Pleasure Machines



Early morning nausea, and the way her body reached out to be taken. With sounds of the nearby ocean in her ears, she didn’t hear me until it was too late. Revolving doors, and the underwear she picked out especially for all those that would find her. Such lovely eyes. Such a remarkable waist. At arms length, she wants me to take her, to help her leave it all behind, for the chemistry we share is like none that will ever be known again. Chrysalis. Cocooned in each other’s arms. It’s in the things that are missed. The details so often overlooked when sedated by the fumes of modern life. The patterns to be found in the palm of her hand, and the way those tiny lines around her mouth reflect truth, not age. Autumn leaves behind her eyelids, and the wonders of time travel as she undresses on a moonlit balcony. Watching her while the whiskey glides down my throat, the arch of her back reflects the lights of passing cars and long dead stars. Sucking on my cigarette, the sky bathes her in the distant glow of supernovas, and as my head begins to swim, she takes my hand and pulls me close. Destruction in the way we merge. Creation as we bind together like the pages of a book. This is our story to tell. No more war, only breathless sighs when everyone else is dead to the world. Raining bullets, the planks of wood beneath our feet reveal the secrets we tried so hard to conceal. Hush now, and follow every step. Through fields of corn and Middlesex nightmares, stay by my side. Conjuring shapes on the nape of your neck as blood pools in circles of crescent moons. There’s a time to be small, but this isn’t it. It won’t last forever, just a few seconds more. Just a few ounces of suffering, and then we can taste it all. Every last drop. Every last memory that ever drowned us cut free and left to float downstream. It’s in the magic other can’t see. It’s in the time it takes our lips to say hello to the pleasures others left behind.

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