teaser
i dont know when or if that book im writing for my loved ones will be finished, but i couldnt resist giving y'all a short glimpse =)
-----------------------
Antonin speaks:
she was perfect. under the dancing moonlight i saw her unbuckling her bra, showing her full breasts. the breasts were farther from each other than most ive seen, remotely divergent and added to her appeal in a mysterious and evocative way. When her bra which negotiated the distance between her breasts to press together a deep cleavage was undone, it was as if every pore in her body took a breath of fresh air.
there were two love bites, one still fresh and dark pinkish but still not red. Like an unripe strawberry prematurely plucked from its creeper; the other bluish-green, like a duo-coloured and yet iridescent oil slick. when placed in juxtaposition, they seemed like the incipient sunset put against a larger background of light-ish darkness, and shadows would be cast over all who watched. shadows of doubt. but she was never mine, and i was never in a position to question. and i didnt want to. questioning would lead inextricably to complications.
i leaned back to have a full view of her body, to stand and watch and breathe and air is air is air, her smell is air, and here is more air, her carbon dioxide sighs and little mewling sounds: air, the shadow cast in air on twine, on limbs like twine. and want like little air. To breathe and be inside her is air.
So here are wrists and ankles air folded bones and flesh and love and life in complex structure; here is a grammar of sinew and cartilage and other musculature come together here. Are limbs been held together, skin and muscle tight like brothers, breath sisters under shadows cast in votives. Full of salt like, pillars salt left behind like nothing.
Ejaculate in shadow puppets, semen black and photonegative. On the sheets of skin and bone beneath and breathing air for air for air for nothing empty lungs and shadows set like bones. Fading as like skin it fades and stretches down, here are shadows full of stretch marks marked and shadow blacked out and ugly in the shadow of the morning light it's light out light it's light.
That night, like Lorca, I ran on the best of roads mounted on a nacre mare without bridle stirrups. As a man, I won't repeat the things she said to me. The light of understanding has made me more discreet. Smeared with sand and kisses.
And in the morning I am hemoglobin transubstantiated cigarette smoke, le sang real sangria sucking spit like gasoline. She's still sleeping beside me. And i'm full up of the smell of the parts of her that have pressed against my skin since midnight, sticky with sweat like vinyl bench seats in August. Soon I will have to peel her off and leave her to sleep without me.
Vast expanses spread out from the window like television commercials for hand cream and Visine. This hotel seems less surreal this morning, but still feels vaguely like a set out of a spaghetti western with the wood boards and creaking wrought iron bed frames.
Her hair snakes across my chest and bears a remarkable resemblance to a map of the interstate highway system.
I think he has noticed the map cut across my chest by the black ropes of the girl's hair. He keeps glancing over at it from behind his sunglasses.
-----------------------
Antonin speaks:
she was perfect. under the dancing moonlight i saw her unbuckling her bra, showing her full breasts. the breasts were farther from each other than most ive seen, remotely divergent and added to her appeal in a mysterious and evocative way. When her bra which negotiated the distance between her breasts to press together a deep cleavage was undone, it was as if every pore in her body took a breath of fresh air.
there were two love bites, one still fresh and dark pinkish but still not red. Like an unripe strawberry prematurely plucked from its creeper; the other bluish-green, like a duo-coloured and yet iridescent oil slick. when placed in juxtaposition, they seemed like the incipient sunset put against a larger background of light-ish darkness, and shadows would be cast over all who watched. shadows of doubt. but she was never mine, and i was never in a position to question. and i didnt want to. questioning would lead inextricably to complications.
i leaned back to have a full view of her body, to stand and watch and breathe and air is air is air, her smell is air, and here is more air, her carbon dioxide sighs and little mewling sounds: air, the shadow cast in air on twine, on limbs like twine. and want like little air. To breathe and be inside her is air.
So here are wrists and ankles air folded bones and flesh and love and life in complex structure; here is a grammar of sinew and cartilage and other musculature come together here. Are limbs been held together, skin and muscle tight like brothers, breath sisters under shadows cast in votives. Full of salt like, pillars salt left behind like nothing.
Ejaculate in shadow puppets, semen black and photonegative. On the sheets of skin and bone beneath and breathing air for air for air for nothing empty lungs and shadows set like bones. Fading as like skin it fades and stretches down, here are shadows full of stretch marks marked and shadow blacked out and ugly in the shadow of the morning light it's light out light it's light.
That night, like Lorca, I ran on the best of roads mounted on a nacre mare without bridle stirrups. As a man, I won't repeat the things she said to me. The light of understanding has made me more discreet. Smeared with sand and kisses.
And in the morning I am hemoglobin transubstantiated cigarette smoke, le sang real sangria sucking spit like gasoline. She's still sleeping beside me. And i'm full up of the smell of the parts of her that have pressed against my skin since midnight, sticky with sweat like vinyl bench seats in August. Soon I will have to peel her off and leave her to sleep without me.
Vast expanses spread out from the window like television commercials for hand cream and Visine. This hotel seems less surreal this morning, but still feels vaguely like a set out of a spaghetti western with the wood boards and creaking wrought iron bed frames.
Her hair snakes across my chest and bears a remarkable resemblance to a map of the interstate highway system.
I think he has noticed the map cut across my chest by the black ropes of the girl's hair. He keeps glancing over at it from behind his sunglasses.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home