the fortieth night:
when i open myself up to someone, or at least, when i begin to let myself think about letting someone in,
at first there is a great euphoria and relief, the loneliness of keeping myself locked up inside myself a heavy burden that at least momentarily seems lifted.
and then comes the moment, the morning, or the middle of the night terror, where i wake up and everything feels broken, and i feel exposed, bruised, smashed against desert rocks.
i wrap around myself, terrified, waiting for the thick, clumsy fingers of another person to poke through my insides, like the first time i was fingered, the fingers stabbing at me, driving into me like a child searching for sandcrabs quickly before the next wave comes in.
i wait for the feeling of being pulled apart, torn open like a christmas present, the wrong parts examined, the subtle parts tossed away. fingers pushing inside my mouth, down into my throat, up into me and groping around, twisting everything up, like the torn panties at the knees of a girl left at the side of the road, their smell all over me--inside me.
today when i woke up it felt as if there are a thousand little nics on the inside of my chest and down into my stomach, that there are tiny cuts bleeding into the center of me, and i am too tired and nervous to do anything about it.
i sat bolt upright in bed and hugged my knees to my chest, "break my body, hold my bones, hold my bones" running through my head until i found myself unconsciously singing it in a little girl's whisper, turning it into a nursery rhyme,
"i am the ugly lover, you'll find us rolling on the dirty floor...
i am a building jumper, roof to roof you see me flying in the air,
break my body, hold my bones, hold my bones"
sometimes i don't understand how people do this everyday, how they lay themselves open for others, cruel, afraid, insensitive, to examine and pick apart.
but sometimes i crave it, the being pulled apart, to have strong, sure fingers caressing me gently as i am laid out on a table and examined, legs spread open wide while the fingers inspect me everywhere. closing my eyes and trying not to shake as they slip inside, feeling the length of me before pulling my mouth open and slipping the fingers along my tongue. laying stock still as they touch every part of me, showing myself to myself, but translated through them, an image reflected off the surface of their eyes.
sometimes i want to be pulled open like a surgery, my chest cracked and held open with clamps, the revealing of everything, my insides read like tea leaves so i can finally, at least with one person, have no secrets and no shame, nothing to reveal,
just me.
but for now, i have tied little bows all over my body, tight, hoping to stop the flow, miniature tourniquets to help check the tiny hemorrhages that are filling me with excitement shaded fear.
i can taste the blood in my mouth like hunger and it's copper penny taste is consuming me.
when i open myself up to someone, or at least, when i begin to let myself think about letting someone in,
at first there is a great euphoria and relief, the loneliness of keeping myself locked up inside myself a heavy burden that at least momentarily seems lifted.
and then comes the moment, the morning, or the middle of the night terror, where i wake up and everything feels broken, and i feel exposed, bruised, smashed against desert rocks.
i wrap around myself, terrified, waiting for the thick, clumsy fingers of another person to poke through my insides, like the first time i was fingered, the fingers stabbing at me, driving into me like a child searching for sandcrabs quickly before the next wave comes in.
i wait for the feeling of being pulled apart, torn open like a christmas present, the wrong parts examined, the subtle parts tossed away. fingers pushing inside my mouth, down into my throat, up into me and groping around, twisting everything up, like the torn panties at the knees of a girl left at the side of the road, their smell all over me--inside me.
today when i woke up it felt as if there are a thousand little nics on the inside of my chest and down into my stomach, that there are tiny cuts bleeding into the center of me, and i am too tired and nervous to do anything about it.
i sat bolt upright in bed and hugged my knees to my chest, "break my body, hold my bones, hold my bones" running through my head until i found myself unconsciously singing it in a little girl's whisper, turning it into a nursery rhyme,
"i am the ugly lover, you'll find us rolling on the dirty floor...
i am a building jumper, roof to roof you see me flying in the air,
break my body, hold my bones, hold my bones"
sometimes i don't understand how people do this everyday, how they lay themselves open for others, cruel, afraid, insensitive, to examine and pick apart.
but sometimes i crave it, the being pulled apart, to have strong, sure fingers caressing me gently as i am laid out on a table and examined, legs spread open wide while the fingers inspect me everywhere. closing my eyes and trying not to shake as they slip inside, feeling the length of me before pulling my mouth open and slipping the fingers along my tongue. laying stock still as they touch every part of me, showing myself to myself, but translated through them, an image reflected off the surface of their eyes.
sometimes i want to be pulled open like a surgery, my chest cracked and held open with clamps, the revealing of everything, my insides read like tea leaves so i can finally, at least with one person, have no secrets and no shame, nothing to reveal,
just me.
but for now, i have tied little bows all over my body, tight, hoping to stop the flow, miniature tourniquets to help check the tiny hemorrhages that are filling me with excitement shaded fear.
i can taste the blood in my mouth like hunger and it's copper penny taste is consuming me.
VIEW 11 of 11 COMMENTS
Agent Stendec got off his seat and started marching towards the elevator- Level 4 he muttered as the doors closed. From all the people in the world, I had to save HER this is the LAST thing I need right now- shell go on and on about the cause, and call me a greedy, self centered fool like she always does as those thoughts crossed his mind, Stendec could not help noticing that his hands were performing the little tasks one makes to better ones appearance.
Level 4. the computers female voice announced.
Stendec stepped out and examined the small escape pod. He knocked 3 times, not knowing exactly why he did so. Yes?!? The familiar voice, carrying with it a fair amount of impatience, sounded muffled from within the small vessel.
Can you come out?
The door is stuck there was a small pause followed by a somewhat painful resignation- Ill need your help
A tiny smile appeared on Stendecs face.
Ok- hang on Stendec turned his gaze to his tool rack in the corner- there was a small but powerful blowtorch, a robotic auxiliary arm-enhancer, an electronic lock scrambler no- this will require something a little more powerful.
Inside the pod a movement was felt- the small metallic sphere rose from the ground, and began to shake violently. WAIT! shouted the muffled voice from within WAIT! The hatch is pointing dowaaaAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!
From his seat at the tall forklift, Stendec watched as the pods hatch swung on its hinges, causing the person inside to drop down from 15 feet into a large pile of soft little Styrofoam cubes- leftovers from his latest smuggling expedition of ancient Wovani glasswork. Content with his little joke, Stendec began descending down a small ladder. He circled the forklift, and approached the open container. You can come out now
There was no answer.
Come on, I dont have all day-Well come out of hyperspace in an hour- I need to brief you on the details. Silence.
Tiger?
A terrible thought crossed his mind- she may have hit her head on the containers edge Tiger! Stendec jumped in and started rummaging through the containers contents- there was nothing there. What the..? Stendec did not get a chance to finish his sentence- the container was up in the air, held tightly between the forklifts clamps. He lifted his head from the foam to see HER sitting high above ground- the vehicle controls in her hands. that sneaky cat! He forgot how good she was at what she did- guerilla tactics were based mostly on sneaking OK- you got me, he said with a laugh- you can let me down now!
Her reply wasnt the one he was hoping for- In a minute- when Im done.
The forklift started spinning on its own axel, slowly at first and gaining speed with each circle. Stendecs eyes started to water- Tiger! Stop this at once All he could hear was her rolling laughter. He started to feel sick.
I am still captain of this ship! That didnt make her too happy, as was evident by the added element of up and down to the almost tolerable round and round.
OK- YOU WIN, IM SORRY!!!
apparently, that was the correct answer- the large box dropped to the floor. A stumbling Stendec rolled out of it and dropped to the floor. He remained there, lying on his back, listening to her footsteps drawing near.
Nice to see you again. She extended her hand and helped him up with a single strong motion.
Nice to see you too... He tried to focus his eyes- her image slowly coming to a halt. Small, fair in complexion, with two interesting birth marks on her nose- The Tiger Marks that were legendary by now. Her piercing green eyes seemed to stare right through him- they were the only indication that this delicate creature was a famed General.
She was wearing the usual rebels camouflage rags- sewn and mended so many times, to the point that Stendec found it hard to tell the patches from the original garment.
On her utility belt was her only visible weapon- a large hunting knife. It was long, white and had no hand guard on its handle.
Youre carrying a Kris knife. He said, trying to hide his own surprise.
I suppose I am. She said plainly.
Stendec knew what it took to earn one of those. So you actually
Yes I did.
She turned around and started marching towards the elevator. You said something about a briefing?
Stendec remained standing and watched her as she walked away. This is going to be a long mission