Would you bolt deep down into your hole like a rabbit scenting a fox on the prowl, with it’s glorious tail a plume of certain victory, and wait in trembling silence for the wind to say I am no more?
Would you slither snake-like into a rocky crevice to watch me in action? Safe and invisible, a stalker of the reptilian order…sssssilent, and amused, finding old warmth in the stone, settling in for the duration, and hoping for the beast to best beauty.
The word slither is so unsexual.
Sometimes.
Or would you lean toward me with a look of your own, and watch me fly away in alarm?
Ah, but we think too much, and vaporized heat dissapates in the chill of this room too soon for contemplation to bloom, while rain pounds at the place like a giant's tears of rage because his hand is stuck in the chimney, and he hungers for me as a snack.
The bitch goddess has her way with me tonight. There is no moon to guide me, and random thoughts are full of error and eros despite the cold draft that reminds me of impending doom, or an empty bed.
Images of dangerous anti-heroes, and mythic monsters full of warm breath and flame flood the mind with perverse pleasure.
A twist of something not quite right in absinthe, please. I need some oblivion to settle the ashes of yesterday.
1 comment:
Yes, the word slither is so unsexual - some of the time. But the feeling of slither - always sexual! That's the thing about words. They can trick you. But touch just is.
Is that a good thing or a bad thing? You tell me.
c.p.
ps - "xkmeeyf" Good one, huh?! Made me smile.
Post a Comment