Tuesday, September 5, 2017

A Penny Dropped Into a Puddle of Oil



As the core of the world goes up in flames (literally; figuratively), I am relaxing into things with a functioning box fan and a red bra.

These days have been odd, indeed.

From time to time, I pair myself with someone quite the opposite of me. I like to study their stitching; their routine. I think of it as a form of self restraint- my curiosity peaked by their checks and balances; the way they butter their toast.

It's only a matter of time before I daydream into the more complicated.  I take a bit more time for myself to ride the anchor down to the bottom of this sea. Past the firm handshakes and punctuality; past the sports fans and socially acceptable DUIs.

During my descend, a thousand images of black, blue, purple and a pitch gray.

It is where I find home.

Above, there are the perfect haircuts of the blue eyed, blonde-haired religious children of the corn, all grown up.

Below, there are the perfect haircuts of those sable- and black-haired beauties who study and practice the most dutiful way to shine a boot.

There is a difference, after all,  between one who cums in a surprise and fear of their own body, and one who familiarly taunts you with its peaks.


k.
(image: Betony Vernon The Boudoir Bible via korlaena tumblr)

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