There,
they live and are among us,
daughters of minor deities,
they repose and feed on the world like us.
I propose again the module of the novel. I hope indeed that many others will want to participate. More details, equivalent to a story faithful to your tastes and desires.
Do not be shy!
Whenever I dream,
it is almost always convoluted,
daughters of hope.
There are really different people.
Have you ever taken a picture?
It is like killing whoever is inside it, the simple gesture denies existence and subtracts that precise memory from everything that accompanies us, or rather it should be done in our short journey of life.
So you're the killing type?
We can change our path, entrust ourselves to chance or limit ourselves to fearing everything, closing our mind and body in a safe that is as sure as it is invisible. Obvious or immoral as it is, we all sometimes hide by acting amiably and then we do nothing but put the annoyance of ourselves to fattening. In the sigh of an awakening, SHE also punctuated a classic among the classics:
Why?
Heck, it will happen to everyone and you can not deny it. I sigh, wake up and realize that I'm not alone. Someone is by our side, who the night before was the king or queen and now is nothing but a faint noise. A horrible noise that lasts in the unmade bed, devastated by guilt, leaving space to embarrassment mixed with bad mood. She tries not to wake up that mistake, welcoming the escape as the only possible solution! Finally, however, as always happens, the thousand memories of "sin" emerge, copious and push hard into the ego. Remember fluids and tell you how his hands touched the most sensitive parts of your body, as yours have delighted his.
Even more serious? Is that what you do? or receive?
So there arises some feeble question at the bottom of the heart and is as childish as noble at the same time. And then that kiss, those kisses that make you close your eyes and now as never before are weighed both in number and in form. The guilt of existing, we could summarize the eternal conflict between passions, drives and the search for not loneliness in the other. But there's more, there must be something else.
Who, is the answer? She's almost at the door! Her "definitive" and "safe" escape route.
Clothes scattered in the room like clouds reflected in millions of mirrors, the similitude of everything and nothingness that we have just experienced. There is a sense of emptiness, in the silence of feelings never experienced that can not be added to any vortex of sexual bodies and impulses. We are not demons or angels, there is no temporal time that allows us to come out of it morally clean. In the name of everyday life we can not do anything but move our nose like humble pawns of a chessboard.
SHE, open the door! Turning around, asks: Ah, did you wake up? I woke you up?
And in truth I affirm and I tell you that the bed should never be left unmade ..
♥
₪All images and text published in this post are mine or my original work₪
Touch and go in a minor bed,
inspired by the destiny of those born different.
▃👉 Contact me for collaborations or any kind of question. Join The Discord
POWERED BY ▼
