Bodies And Rain


Snuffed out by her inner demons. Don’t speak to me about forests and sands, for they interest me very little, except for when they wash upon the shores of her inner thigh that is. It’s a natural thing, some kind of sexual turn on maybe. The way everything glistens beneath the moon. The way thunder rolls over the smooth plains of her belly. It’s boring, yet somehow highly stimulating. It’s horrifying to be so human, yet the cheapness of it makes me giddy. It tickles me to the base of my spine. All those flowers. Those dirty smiles just begging to be picked clean off. The upturned corners of her mouth. The flickering remains of a childhood long since gone. It’s numbing, like some kind of succumbing cunt. Oh wait, that’s a naughty word. Spare me the horrors though, as it just isn’t holy any more. Nothing is. The day is forever, hillsides not desolate, but aching for the hands of some generous lover. The animals waiting beneath trees in the hope of rain. The great release. The relaxing of muscles and the showing of truth. Soft machines and their special ways. Too tired to sleep and drink. Masturbation too dulling. The streets are quiet, reflecting echoes of days long since lost. The sky is lonely. It offers only sadness, so suffocating that you can’t breathe. It’s been like this for years, only afternoons like these always make it so much harder.

Those moments that escape. The faces that smile through the veil of clouds. Time, so painful and honest. The occasions that live within my head, brought alive by daydreams. The scent of alcohol, and freshly cut grass. The shadows that linger by the side of the road. The rain as it poured down outside, and the way she slept on the bed as everyone partied downstairs. I remember the traffic passing slowly, and the rising of her chest. The evening was a blur, but we fell asleep together, and that’s all that mattered. The taxi ride home before that, and the faded photographs. Flashing lights and smiles, the drowning souls trying so desperately to save themselves from oblivion. No one was saved though. The moment has been cast adrift, and all that’s left is raw emotion left dangling in the wind. Buildings and car journeys. Late night love making, and the hush of her lips. Comfort. Joy. Not getting out of bed, just laying there all day. Warm sheets. Bodies entwined. Gardens in sunlight, and the way tomorrow just doesn’t exist. The way it always should be. No future, only now. Throwing the windows open wide, and breathing in starlight.

Driving around with nowhere to go. Smoking to bring some sense of calm. The way her eyes dance within my mind. The taste of her teeth next to mine. Those flashing lights again, and the feel of her hips beneath my hands. In the kitchen against the fridge caressing her breasts. Lifting up her top, and placing my mouth around her nipple. She turns her face upwards, and I suck even harder. Pushing her into a corner, I lick the other and imagine what she’ll look like on the bed again. Nude and open. Flowering like dreams, and ready to take all I’ve got. What a real fuck should feel like. The magic of ages, all primal and instinct. In the early hours, in the dark and on all fours. Sweat dripping like a waterfall as our bodies merge and the words fall silent. Passion and lust. Rage and something else. Something so familiar yet vague in her tightly shut eyes.

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