A Fitt

I remember. A lot. Retention is knee jerk and not conscious.

Souls wrought like iron.

Hide in your cave until the light returns and you forgive yourself the impatience winter demand as its dues.

You mean the idea of accepting that you won’t want to accept the truth?

Breathe.

Now stop and fear me. Very good, beast.

I love the lapping crests of waves on shore like tongue on my cunt.

But, this desert of diurnal dehydration

recalls howl we do not drink water whilst sleeping,

though dreaming allegedly burns as many calories as wakefulness.

I am the power of your dreams and the incapacitation

of your night-mares.

Horseapples are not so delicious as horseradish

And mushrooms taste of warm, spilt semen.

And this perpetual goal of ascertaining the unobtainable makes me corrigibly incorrigible.

Contained to overflowing.

Delicious duplicity of discomfort.

And every shudder forces the air out and through my diaphram,

and, I feel my ribs struggle against constriction.

I can count them inside myself, through the agency of this binding,

Just as you could now count them with your fingertips.

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. View all posts by writtencasey