my hand through a veil
Jun. 14th, 2005 10:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
burnunitBlack fires burn in a radiant wheel my fingers clenched against my stomach and vicious hungers mount in my blood these rudiments cluster together and whisper to each other: take us home, charge our skins with your electric kisses, bind us to your victories. We crossed the desert of our memories and stood in the wicked shaped shadows.
"Enough of this," I muttered. We wasted no time forgetting what we wanted and gave ourselves over to the need of the Angry Men the Rust Men the Victory Men and their hot breath on our necks. We learned to want what they wanted and threw ourselves into the work setting fires, climbing the hills south of the City and peering into the smoke and haze.
O I want that thing! I want that touch of hands upon my tightened muscles a slow stretching and deepening of my breath. I want to fly down the painted streets and be remembered. remembered! Like my caresses count, my efforts spell themselves into sterling patterns readable practically from space, to know my wake ripples someone with sweet cool heartbeats.
What is this taste in my mouth? It's liver-sharp (a memory of cranberries upon the tongue) and colored with my unspoken invectives.
Whose voice is that? Is that hers, smooth and exact? Or just mine, imitating hers in my mind as I recite my paranoid litany? "Do you know there's people who just don't understand me and are filled with outrages at the mention of me? Do you know someone who bites back their own taste of bitterness that's so utterly wasted from its flat misunderstanding? What did you decide about me from my failings that don't contain enough fact to really do your revulsion justice?"
O that thing. I want that thing. O! That moment when I elaborate and you just release my face from your prison of bile and treat me like a person again! You win. You win my uselessness my chains my clumsy shuffling feet. But if only you'd wanted my glories, my glittering blood of glass. You could have my visions of the dusky tiers of houses, the sooted balconies and every figure on them. You're welcome to the truth- the beautiful things I see from there and the space inside. O just ask for once. Just give me one taste.
"Enough of this," I muttered. We wasted no time forgetting what we wanted and gave ourselves over to the need of the Angry Men the Rust Men the Victory Men and their hot breath on our necks. We learned to want what they wanted and threw ourselves into the work setting fires, climbing the hills south of the City and peering into the smoke and haze.
O I want that thing! I want that touch of hands upon my tightened muscles a slow stretching and deepening of my breath. I want to fly down the painted streets and be remembered. remembered! Like my caresses count, my efforts spell themselves into sterling patterns readable practically from space, to know my wake ripples someone with sweet cool heartbeats.
What is this taste in my mouth? It's liver-sharp (a memory of cranberries upon the tongue) and colored with my unspoken invectives.
Whose voice is that? Is that hers, smooth and exact? Or just mine, imitating hers in my mind as I recite my paranoid litany? "Do you know there's people who just don't understand me and are filled with outrages at the mention of me? Do you know someone who bites back their own taste of bitterness that's so utterly wasted from its flat misunderstanding? What did you decide about me from my failings that don't contain enough fact to really do your revulsion justice?"
O that thing. I want that thing. O! That moment when I elaborate and you just release my face from your prison of bile and treat me like a person again! You win. You win my uselessness my chains my clumsy shuffling feet. But if only you'd wanted my glories, my glittering blood of glass. You could have my visions of the dusky tiers of houses, the sooted balconies and every figure on them. You're welcome to the truth- the beautiful things I see from there and the space inside. O just ask for once. Just give me one taste.