Mesolimbic Pathway

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When she feels the air in her lungs tighten, she grabs her crayons and draws the animals she sees in her dreams and then ladyparts and skeletons reaching up to the clouds from the dull ground below. When she drinks her wine, she feels a little easier in her skin, and sometimes, when she focuses on the good stuff leaving the bad shit to sink, she touches herself until her body is filled with electricity and there’s nothing but the eye of God that exists deep inside of her somewhere between her heart and her spine. There are so many colours and so many words, and when she bites and chews the air around her mouth, they flash behind her eyelids like she’s in the middle of a lightning storm and then she becomes the storm, and she loses her form, and all that’s left is pure energy. When she comes down and snaps her crayons in half, she smokes her cigarettes and crawls down the stairs on her belly just the same as she did when she was a kid. She sniffs the wallpaper in the hallway and leaves lipstick traces on the mirror above the fireplace while squeezing her nipples thinking of someone who makes her feel gooey. Surrounded by a ring of paintings depicting men and women in varying stages of undress and sin, she drags a piece of glass along her arm and feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She presses it deep into her flesh and here comes the tingle and here comes the feeling and here comes the storm again until she’s on her back spitting out his name as the air in her lungs vanishes right on point. With each second that melts beneath the tips of her fingers, there’s movement in the stars a thousand light years from home that mirrors each flick of her slender wrist. Everything is everything. Every thought and every emotion. Every word and every breath. It exists as one in all places, and as she looks up at the light that hangs from the ceiling, she isn’t caged but free to do as she pleases. So first comes him and then comes her and then there’s the explosion in the base of her skull that brings with it wave of wave of being that snatches her from the carpet and flings her into the mountains where Lucifer landed after being cast out of heaven for daring to be more than what was intended.

A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.co.uk

A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.com

13 replies »

  1. This disturbs me and intrigues me and it made me smile “…she smokes her cigarettes and crawls down the stairs on her belly just the same as she did when she was a kid.”. It also pissed me off – though I can’t explain why (but only for a second, and it may have been ME I was pissed off at)? In the End though, I felt…content. Your words move me, more often than not – and this from me is a compliment. I hope you know that?

    • I take it as a big compliment indeed, and one I cherish very much. It is all about connecting. Whether it be music, painting, words, as long as we connect with ourselves and with others, than we have given ourselves a chance. I am happy that we have this connection.

  2. “then there’s the explosion in the base of her skull that brings with it wave of wave of being that snatches her from the carpet and flings her into the mountains where Lucifer landed after being cast out of heaven for daring to be more than what was intended” Perhaps we too have been cast out of heaven for daring to be more than what was intended. . .

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