Pulse

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Crawling to the water’s edge, I produce a glistening flute. She says my drinking habits are unsocial, and not only that but worrying. Finishing my beer, I tell her not to be so stupid before smearing the flute with vaseline and slowly inserting it inside of her. My actions could be considered strange, possibly even mad, but the opinions of others are of no concern. My one wish isn’t for world peace, nor is it a cure for cancer; it’s to be able to eat every inch of her body; to possess not only her mind but her soul as well. It’s to spread her legs and not only tickle her sex until she wets herself but to climb inside of her and smile in the warmth of her motherly embrace. The days disappear. They lose all sense of form. My body; it’s beginning to show signs of wear and tear. My mind- that went downhill years ago, but what it’s been replaced with is as worrying as it is seductive. Help me to become what I need to become, and yet stop me from going over the edge. Drive me to dissolve the line between what’s real and what’s not, and offer me your breast when it all gets too much. Let me punish those that don’t believe, and give hope to those who know what it feels like to be broken and alone. Let me peel back my skin and show myself for what I am even though what I am is a mystery even to me.

4 replies »

  1. I cannot pin point any certain emotion that I did NOT feel while reading this and that it dangerously pleasing. very well written!

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