Questioning statements.

The breeze returns. Curt blasts whitecapping the water of the Sound.

My eyes return to your forearms.

Do you think sailors ever smoked to gauge the wind’s direction?: I ask.

There would be other, better ways, I imagine: he says.

But, any so physically and painfully pleasing?: I challenge.

Hear the sound of my hard swallow

after hearing you

say: no you cannot.

The yield of yielding when facing the inexorable other.

The difference between unmerciful and

mercilessly defines itself now,

Like the vulnerability of engaging in the outrageous.

Enraged does not imply rage any more than ‘engorged’ does not always imply an

Empurpled structure.

Shutter speeds of my apperature struggle to clearly capture the inside vantage point.

This lurid fecundity from your reinvigoration,

arches my spine into a gateway.

A point of entry becomes created.

Tell me something good.: he says,

as an outreach.

I say: I chop vegetables and fruits as meditation. Slowly, precisely. I pour my attention and love into the act until it feels as though they butcher themselves. Nourishing before ingesting for nourishment.

Mastery through repetition of action. I heard you swallow hard again, you know.: he replies.

My flow of thoughts continues to stream out from between my lips.

I feel my solar plexus and diaphragm release and tighten as my tongue and mouth shape the exhalations into

spoken sentences, saying:

the vivisection of a tomato is proof of magic and, isn’t it curious that oranges grow on trees whether you have a personal savior or not. I am not religious but I see the miraculous in much of the mundane. A habit can habituate into passé routine without proper inspection or

it may alchemicalize, under our will, into ritual.

Ssshhh. Your mind is always restless, do you think?: he quietly interrupts.

I think I feel a strange pleasure at you asking questions to which you already know the answer. And, yes my mind is. It takes a great deal of restraint on my part, to make it still.: I say.

Proper restraint is how we unleash ourselves and run wild.: says his voice.

The upward inflection on his final word gave the appearance of sounding like a question, even though

it is a statement.

Author: writtencasey

I am fascinated by the scientific endeavor and I read about or engage with those processes as much as possible. I am a compulsive reader and writer. With a background in anthropology and as an arm-chair/backyard scientist, I hope to improve my writing skills and learn about any areas of weakness or misunderstanding in my analytic skills. I am excited to share. Thank you for spending time here. Please reach out if you are so inclined. I'd be excited to hear from you.

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