The raw emotions of a woman Read Online Free

running
in the same circle over and over again. And the man chasing her
around watches casually as she double passes him with sweat, mud
and struggle written on her face. Don’t try so hard, the man says
grimacing to trip her, to be on the same level as her, to explain
to her as he does to all women how easy sex can be, it is just two
people talking, not one woman asking a million people to accept
her. And he smiles lightly, reaching for her but knowing he will
miss, always getting to be almost there, before she quietly sneaks
somewhere else, under another rock in a stream that will evaporate
one day. I am here he says as she begins to cry, stark in a black
and white world where love has become a nasty word in seduction,
used against the weak who don’t know self-preservation. I am too
good for you she yells, wishing she wasn’t so out of breath so it
would sound better. And the guy shyly smiled, if only I could hear
he says, but I haven’t heard a word you have said in years, I am
only watching you from afar. And in that dark moment she realizes
she is stuck in this never ending loop, always searching for a
reason to stop, and all that she can create are the wisps of wind
as she passes others like the breath of kisses of an animal who is
much larger and greater then it will ever realize.
     
    +++
    Slipping on intimacy
    I see you, can’t you see
me, staring through a thin plastic curtain whispering names of
people who we used to know, as if we both see the same shade of
yellow, as if we were machines with zeroes and ones and everything
could be perfect somewhere, perfect in its language with all its
dots and letters, and in-between spaces, with all its yes and no,
coming with a timed sense of perfection. I want you, don’t you want
me, come the whispers in-between us, come the hearsays and the
gossip and the empty promises that return around again, like
headless bugs. And we sit there unaware of ourselves smelling up
the world with our half thoughts and attempts of conversation that
go nowhere put to a strange laugh or a sneeze, or a bathroom pass.
And we sit beginning to know life all over again, thinking it could
all happen in a split second if we allowed it to, it could happen
in five minutes if we pretend to skip over all our tragedies in
simple conversation. And we lay there inside of one another, and it
feels like luke warm water, hoping for an answer in the dark
through a daily conversation about nothing, and we live bleeding
but we deny it too easily for an ease of gossip or random passion,
avoiding life like seeing our own facial expressions in a stream of
water.
    +++
    Hiding
    Inside of another jar of another soul are
memories and words and magic thoughts that we all so easily pick up
like Velcro, tying ourselves to our dreams through choices and
actions, stereotypes. We live like we are children in a zoo of
cages constantly searching for the impressions of footsteps of
those who have ran away, searching for the worst words in a
horrific situation, or the best forms of praise. We look forward to
the nothingness of a blank, thinking it is work to write our story,
create our words out of plaster from the molded faces of paid
models. We think we can fight for a voice in a world of silent
partners as we constantly find the easy way out that no one will
notice. We are the soldiers of time, living in the after-thought of
a monster and the pre-conceived idea of someone’s pain who hasn’t
yet been born. Living in another time with a different set of
backbones and situations that no one has heard of yet, beginning to
find our voice in situations that could be juxtaposed into the
right brain as wrong, so quickly with a thought, with a solid step
in another direction, with a rain of tears, and in fear we run into
the holes we can fit into, not aware of the alternatives, as we
wait for the others. But as we sit there alone, shaking in this
sweet spot of life, we find nothing but the bird’s eye view of the
city we have