May 24, 2009 - Sunday
parts of The Hilliker Curse by James Ellroy
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Writing and Poetry

I was seeking a blend of wholesomeness and hot passion.

Their soiled souls were socked in synch with yours truly.

He yearned for women in silent solitude. His soul volume ran at my shrieking decibel.

Her, she, the Immortal Beloved/The Other, conjuction, communion, consecration and the completion of the whole. The human race advanced and all souls salved as two souls unite. The sacred merging of art and sex to touch God.

Those women could not read my heart. My heart sould have terrified them.

I want to crawl up inside you and offer you the same comfort. Cup my ears, i'll do the same for you. The scream of the world is unbearable, and only we know what it means.

Deep talk, love making, deep talk. Sweat and nicotine breath back when classy women still smoked. The pledge of a shared future. The common cause of US. The analysis of our shared pasts to vouch-safe a utopian future. Their real stories and my reinterpretation.

Deep talk, lovemaking, deep talk. On transferably monogamous nightly basis, with any woman who might be HER.

The fever consumed a full year. Shifting soul currents defined it. My physical anguish increased. The real world called to me again.

I read faces for signs of the worthiness of love and demanded reciprocated love instantly.

The moral point of struggle is to overcome it and change. It scares me to think that real-love sex flatlines and dies over time. I want real love and will find real love and will not let it numb my imagination. You're drawing me little pictures. We're here to tell each other special things. You rewrite my heart and show me how shit works. You talk to me and listen to me. Its the world in a pop-up book I can understand.

The bed was a minefield. I never slept. I craved more contact. I ran breathlessly anxious.