4.5.10

[xunpredictablel]

|Title| Untitled
|Rating| PG 13

I thought of myself as
Corrupt,
As touching and loving and
fucked.
But now it's hitting me that
I could be
out of control?

I work so hard to help others,
with the exception of myself -
Worked so hard that I cut
myself, to better myself for them.

I touch myself so subtly,
a graze against my skin
to stimulate the smaller things
that should be locked within.
I call it nature, natural - but
is it our nature to be so
animalistic, lustful, it's
questionable - so questionable
to be so… me?

I can't handle the touch of your
hypothetical self, let alone you
physically. So how can I handle and
control myself if you're touching my face and neck
against the tall, bounding electric pole
or within some stretching plains.

But no - I can't torture myself like this.
The taste of your skin is too…
bittersweet..

[Panda]

Ah, the eternal conflict of not being good enough for the world. Personaly the world can bite my ass, but still the need to find a niche in life is very strong. The feeling like being yourself is wrong, or sinful leads to many things, and I am glad to see that at the end of the poem you say how you wount, or can't, go on in that way. The way you say how you can't handle him, is very interesting. You cant handle him, in the sence of who is is, perhaps because of his lust pehaps some hidden reason, and then on top of that the physical embodiment of him is even worse. It is just this overwhelming sence of how much you can't handle it. You can't control yourself. I wounder if you not controling yourslef and the part where you ask is it natural for you to be so animalistic are realated. Perhaps you feel like you have given in to that which you hate. Methinks Caitlyn has some lust locked away in there. Waiting for the right time to come out. But perhaps that is infering to much.

As always, I envy the way you can just slap up poems seemingly all the time, and still have them turn out like this. Good job. ^^

[Alicia's Ghost]

Dirt, filth - these are the things I'm reading between these lines. This ability to feel so much lust, to be overwhelmed by the need to touch someone, to be held, to be ground so hard and yet feeling as if you're flying. This is a physical thing, at once both a war and a celebration of the body -- but there are times when fucking, sexing, making love are all one in the same, when the hand that touches you is almost too much to bear -- the weight of your relationship, the weight of your heart making it almost too keen a sensation to be considered perfect pleasure. But there is a darker side to lust, seeking pain to release the pressure of enjoying something that isn't acceptable. I think it is here, in this shadow that you're falling.

You fuck, you suck, you start, you finish -- it doesn't really matter. It's becoming something tortuous. I feel as if you are falling into this confusion, this want that has yet to be recognized, and because you do not understand it, you channel it the only way you know how. Sometimes, sex is a dirty thing. Sometimes, from my own experience, you feel heavier when you're done than when you began, as if you're going to sink through the sheets and right into the ground. I'm drawing from my own memories, my own sexual arousals that have really only further confused the heart and mind. It's a strange thing, this ability to fuck and not feel anything. To feel physically ill by the things your body is doing on it's own, driven by it's own need to complete this insatiable hunger which so contradicts what's within your nature.

Is this where you are right now? You cut yourself in punishment, trying to make y ourself better. You snuff out parts of you that "shouldn't be seen" you hide parts of you 'that should be locked within'. It's hard to just break out and say fuck the world, this is who I am, but in some ways this is almost worse.

It seems as if you're stuck, straddling the edge of giving into this nasty, dirty thing that at once stimulates and breaks you down, and giving it up entirely and feeling hollow.