I want to touch someone. If it's too hard to start touching, then I want a reason to touch. I'm frightened of people I can't touch, I'm frightened of people whose skin I can't cover with my own, ever so gently, two surfaces together. I feel as if I'm about to be attacked, and so I feel as if I'm about to attack.

So I go to a strange dirty little underground hole that they call a club, which is completely new to me. So many deeply dark, beautiful characters who I assume are the new children of the underworld. When you're in a club it's OK to slam into other people. The first time you ram into someone, you hit then with your anger. You feel rage in the pain of the collision. Then, without waiting, you go and crash into a second person and then a third, a fourth, a fifth, bashing into them with different parts of your body, and you feel the rage start to dissolve in the lingering traces of pain.

By this time I'm in a state of frozen, numbed exhaustion. Now I start to writhe, stretching out a rapid hand to brush parts of bodies of people near by. As if to pickpocket pieces of them. A rush of erotic feeling takes over and I'm starting to feel really grateful that I'm living like this, not just letting rage take control.

This is proof that you shouldn't write when you're stoned.........

Tags:
Published by BowToYourMistress: 12:08 PM
Views: 110