I keep trying to masturbate, and whenever I get a good mental image of someone going, them hot, glistening and naked, me thrusting, the focus slips, and the woman is my ex, and I'm another man. This was happening in the shower earlier.
I end my life while in the shower, meat in hand, unable to satisfy it. I don't stop the water, its still running steamy as I slowly increase the pressure on the shower curtain until the rings start to pop open, or rip the plastic whichever isn't covered by shower curtain insurance first. I wrap the shower curtain and the liner slowly around my head, take a last condensced gasp, and bend over into the stream of the shower. Hands wrapped tight enough to keep the shower curtain in place, but not tight enough to stop the water.
I take hold my breath, waiting for my need to breath to be overwhelming, waiting for the water to reach inescapable levels. My lungs are aching, pulling at their own walls as if they could heave air through my very being with enough will. I take a hot shower water gasp into my lungs, and taste coppery burning as I pass out.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
January 5th - Deskinning
I have a hive...that's being irritated. I poke it every couple minutes, its on the inside curve of my upper eye socket. It sits there like a tiny itchy turret, which will spew forth wee itchy invaders at a moments scratch.
I'm not foolish enough to scratch it mind you, oh no. I rub it. I give it a hard rub with my index finger's fingerprint. Its half into my eyebrow, not larger, but just stradling the line. I can picture half of its red anger being hairy red anger. I feel like if I wanted to, I could rub it hard, until its raw, and widen a hole in my skin, and then with my fingertips, just pull my epidermis back like a tight hoodie. Slowly work it past my shoulders, like a dress sweater over a tie of moist bone. Work it past the jutting bones of my elbows, take a short minute to look at my arm tattoos from both sides.
Past the waist it gets a bit messy, its not all ordered muscles right around the stomach. So I just walk around, let it hang like a yuppy sweater.
In an hours time, the moisture has all but evaporated, and I'm a statue with twitching toes and eyes agape.
I'm not foolish enough to scratch it mind you, oh no. I rub it. I give it a hard rub with my index finger's fingerprint. Its half into my eyebrow, not larger, but just stradling the line. I can picture half of its red anger being hairy red anger. I feel like if I wanted to, I could rub it hard, until its raw, and widen a hole in my skin, and then with my fingertips, just pull my epidermis back like a tight hoodie. Slowly work it past my shoulders, like a dress sweater over a tie of moist bone. Work it past the jutting bones of my elbows, take a short minute to look at my arm tattoos from both sides.
Past the waist it gets a bit messy, its not all ordered muscles right around the stomach. So I just walk around, let it hang like a yuppy sweater.
In an hours time, the moisture has all but evaporated, and I'm a statue with twitching toes and eyes agape.
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