December 2008
10 posts
tripping
Walking the fresh night streets. They glisten like poison. Reflecting the lights. An impression of Christmas.
A taxi stops for me. Pulling over to the right.
“The Bar Maid.”
And we drive. A bleery scene beside me. It’s you and me, I think. That’s all.
Radiohead - Hail to the Thief - There There
oscar ortiz duarte
I can feel the soft insides of her. It is nothing. Like a finger pushing into dirt. I could do this for hours. Which is exactly why she wants me here. They all want the same thing. A romantic encounter with Don Juan. To be desired, to desire, and to die. I read somewhere that sex is death. That with each orgasm we die.
She’s moaning softly under me now. I move softer now, hold her...
Ghostland Observatory - Robotique Majestique - The...
oscar ortiz duarte
I can feel the soft insides of her, but it is nothing. Like a finger pushing into dirt. I could do this for hours. Which is exactly why she wants me here. They all want the same thing. A romantic encounter with Don Juan. To be desired, to desire, and to die. I read somewhere that sex is death. That which each orgasm we die. I’ve died many times in many women’s arms.
Time to switch...
ever wake up
I could never wake up.
I assume the nothing of dreams
the insubstantial material of what could be and what has been. It’s better than walking down the street looking in each strangers eyes seeing that man on news raping you, that man on the radio stabbing you, that man in your nightmares strangling you. All the countless ways to die as a woman.
I often dream of being used up, plunged dry...
ever wake up
I could never wake up. Honey colored sleep, smelling nothing but purple dreams and romantic visions of you and me. If everything else could be obliterated besides you and I - I don’t think I would mind feeling you only. The soft crisp of your body. The sunlight of your mind.