V

essel

My mind full of catalogs of micro-expressions, trying to understand just why it is that that upturned corner of your mouth was so appealing that day that you had me bent over, grabbing my ass after I told you that I’d only tried fucking other people because you told me to.

That flickering moment —


And then you asked me not do it again.

On some pre-conscious primal level, I suppose that having someone program me to like or do certain things has a certain appeal to it. Who watches the watcher? Who trains the trainer? Where are my limits when the depths of my heart is reflected across the sky and emblazoned on the eyes and lips of those within my sphere of influence?

I start wondering what it is that I should be doing with my talents, and if I ought should let myself submit to small comforts and stable commitments. There’s something almost picturesque about the idea of spending my days thinking only about what color to paint my nails or how to wear my hair. To figure out how make-up works, or what it is that I possess that other women envy, what it is that you desire.

Otherwise, my days are filled mostly with reading scientific writings from a century ago, looking for trends and sniffing for something there on the bleeding edge of existence.


For something.

Get an edge in with these gifts of mine, make a place for myself somewhere, somehow. Find the meaning of my life, some life’s purpose or duty or something more fulfilling than gaining ten more pounds eating rich food bought with food stamps.

Most days spent warring between my sociopolitical movement dreams and the body of mine that has been crumbling beneath me since it began. I’m looking for a shell, somewhere to deposit myself. My consciousness, my life. Somewhere safe and comfortable.

You said that you want to put a baby in me. To be able to come home to me every day from work, while you’re working 60 hour weeks day in and day out, only enough time to play WoW and go to sleep.

I think some days that we both wish we could crawl up inside of my womb.

Some days, I think I could eat the whole world.

But to create one?