Sweet Puck,
how long has it been since i sat and wrote to you like this? i'm so
tired that my eyes default to open and staring. so here i sit, tired, broken,
and staring at the crawling walls. watching the walls writhe is a far less
erotic amusement than watching your skin sliding across your infrastructure
of bone when you breathe. i like to watch you sleep sometimes; the rhythm
of your breath, the softening around the edges of your body, like reality
is bleeding off the page. i like to lie next to you and listen to the sounds
you make in your dreams, silently drawing from your body heat to keep me
warm. i love the way you smell. dead blood was always such an aphrodisiac
for me. sometimes, i kiss you while you lay unconscious, just to taste
you on my lips as i fall asleep. you really do indulge me, dearest. you
immerse all of my senses in the joy of perceiving you. sometimes, my darling,
the owls must dream; but, tonight is not the night.
somewhere on this disk, i have put the openings of two stories i'm trying to write. (dear god, i'm _such_ a hack) so, yeah, don't give yourself a hernia laughing at my prose.
love you more than death,
c0demuse
1.21.99
3:15:56 am