lokischild

Lust is an object. Tangible and solid; it is a red satin ribbon, woven with cold metal. It has the strength to break whatever bonds society puts on it. Looking at him I see the list in his eyes and it frightens me that I could have confused it with love, that he could have confused it with depth of feeling and emotion. Lust is an actor. It masquerades as friendship and concern, twisting what was honest into something short lived and animalistic. Burning itself out in the time it takes me to get bored, leaving the shell of a broken promise and half-truth heartfelt apologies and oaths. Lust moves. Never staying still, until the one thing more inevitable trumps our pitiful attempts at immortality. Is this why lust is so entwined with death in our minds? Does some primitive part of us recognize that lust embodies life? Lust is the catalyst. Emotions are its progeny. And, cannibalistic, lust devours them before they can establish their primacy. Like the great god Chronos, aborting its offspring until lust is the only thing-lust and its mate, loneliness.
Final thought: I need to start writing again, and since the easiest way for me to write is to pick from a group of topics and just write on it, I want you guys to tell me what you think, and leave topics for me to write on. Anything goes, it doesn't have to be a situation or anything like that, it can be one single word, or the name of a song or a movie, anything at all. Feel free.

-=squish=-

fuck......he despises me for being human.....and after all my attempts to give up on him and close my heart to him, it still hurts.....so i'm sitting here crying and shivering as he tries to presume what i think and feel.......where did the man i love go? and how was he replaced with this asshole that's talking to me now? and why the fuck does he still have the power to hurt me? why do i feel like i'm dying right now, just because of what he says to me? why do i feel guilty for being the person i told him i was?