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Rx DstrbdEmbracing It's blog: "Minds Eye"

created on 02/25/2008  |  http://fubar.com/minds-eye/b192303

~M~ Unplugged

For those who can notice such things, these walls must roar in echo of sentences never spoken, and other ungodly expressions never exclaimed into the stale air, this perpetual stench, indecisive' sweat impregnated in eiderdown, oak and leather. Amateur Hour recorded rhetoric’s whispers past failures back at us. Not that I listen anyway my focus strained to your voice and your voice alone. I knew you would choose your blues for this karaoke kick with too much care. It is open night on spit, and the mike that is my perception, erect, anticipating your growl and grip, is primed for action. Satisfaction is a deep throat grunt of passing thresholds unknown to science. And I wait, I wait I god damn piously wait for you to stop talking... ...and start speaking. You own the words... you carry them like nitro, locked in a Pandora's Box, suppressed to oblivion and shame. But as tangible as your name. Words you could never commit to runes linked - they would scorch paper, and wreak havoc if digitally committed to transport through a fatal pixel push. But spoken, cutting and fusing new neural paths, they would static charge your spine and taste like scotch and semen on your tongue... ...a semantic Sang real spell that would let me tear that skimpy see-though Freudian slip right off your burning blush, and pin yourself promotion banter to the nearest wall. Teeth would sink softly into succulent flesh, and god almighty, if you scream and sing the way you can - between whimper and borderline laughs - my Kool-Aid plasma will once and for all purify into the true red that paints your cheeks in the complexion of clandestine claims. One breath would drown in the other's salt, and there would be no safety fuse... ...not since you scoured your closet for the perfect mask, a deck of trump excuses, and found that beautiful veil. The only reason we'd ever need to unleash each other's beasts. Only then, you see, only then can we cast aside the robes, Dante's fine tuned strait jackets, and leave this room as true humans... ...who didn't cower and shrink to misconceptions of disapproval dreads, who have no chains and will carry, with pride, halos of splinter identities in a sand paper smoothed world. Speak, I beg you, speak those words and shatter something still unknown inside of me into glass dust that can burn my veins clean, tear those optic synapses apart and let your ethereal fire forge me sapient once more. If those words and this room, whatever it is that so desperately needs to resound in here, can't heal us, right this moment, nothing ever will. ~M~
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