Sunday, July 8, 2018

You



I'm looking at you. As if you are an exotic landscape, full of riddles under your clothes. Answers written backwards. your body is synonym of softness. A door - an exit may be. 

Your eyes searching for nothing. But here I am. The shadows of my touch towards you. I hear words - "caresses", skin to skin - empty flesh. I listen to my voice, like a string, like a circle saying, fill me up. Let me fill you up, to make someone new. Words, - pleasure,touch me, - with 
you, its a different touch. A different color, another sound, through the skin. Concave - on my knees. Convex - touch me. Fill me up - fill my name with your body - Guide me. Take me where we can - to your 
lips of hunger. Hunger - for spreading out. Someone else-to be somebody else-to be you.  

Not being here. We are not here-my voice, saying hunger. Spread out-Spread the legs, do it. The lips speak up. Spread out your body, take me away from my body. Speak up-take you to the touch of words. 
I hear a word from my voice-Pleasure, Your voice.

This is my body. Look at it-Ask me now how much or what you should do to get it. Trick me somehow, plot something and get me. If you get to me, I can show you some new places. Some new touches, New words, the place behind the word care. Caress yourself through me. Through my touch mixed with yours. Enter me. I am the one having you now. Come on. Let go. I'll take you. Listen to the flesh-your insides open up till they darken the touch. I here the flesh sticking and rubbing. I sin with roughness, with my hand on your chest, thinking about your messy hair. I hear my voice drawing the word hole.  

Cold skin, open mouth - You, the peak of a party I cant remember. To have your name on my body,to be your body,An empty but shiny new body-Fake. I'll have your name, and we'll be like death. A hollow voice saying, Pleasure. Howl to flesh. Your eyelids spread out, the circle of your iris spin. And your deep mouth gets closer to mine. You are inside, just by looking at me. 

Come! - Anonymous

Me

This is a recording-I hear myself saying it, Please leave a message. There's no one here. A voice in me states, I'm not here. Listen but I am not here. I am a hole listening to itself saying nothing. A mumble, A hole, A body, Me. Naked, like a saint pierced by arrows, forgotten on this empty shelf. An empty saint on a shelf on display, or in a supermarket freezer. Frozen meat going bad. Me.

Break the void to find you. Break the gap, to open up a hole where I may fit in to breathe, to break the silence, to yell, to be a howl, until I can be somebody else. A hole, in my body.A howl, that no one hears.

There's no one here. I can see myself having a big walk. I go forward, I know the echo of a voice leading me to the echo of my own voice. But there is no need to move forward, when I already lose myself without moving.

"They can destroy us & if I don't exist tomorrow, I want to be able to say at least I made it."

Solar spores float through the room. Sometimes I feel as if I was drowning. I am out of air.Not even a small shriek from my voice. Solar spores float through the room. Sometimes I feel that I have no face. New shapes of corpses, actually. Flesh meat, expensive clothes. Empty bottles and broken glass, music,at least the echo of it. I imagine myself lost amidst colourful trash, burned under tools of yesterday. Drowned amidst colourful plastic cups and then Id yell. It would break my head to save me.

My story is this apartment, this room. I don't know, I cant remember who was here.

There's no one here, my voice is here... - Anonymous