This is how love tastes (and other random prose)

[vurtomatic]

I was looking through my journal and I thought I'd put these random stuff up *shrug*.

 

[vurtomatic]

a sullen ball of flames falling so slowly amidst a drape of pale blue. parched leather cracked under the dry heat, the sun beating it to a deep, bronze burnish. corded muscles rippled, undulated like the wind caressing shifting sands; bunched with potential, impatient.

shoulders pulled back, almost touching. head titled back, rending the air. a scream crawled its taloned way free, a requiem for the sun.

breath left the body, chased the tunnels, escaped... collapse.

twitch, shudder, shudder... gasp... coils of bulbous snakes under the leather, struggling, swimming... bulging beneath the surface, splitting skin. with a sudden vicious rupture, bones broke the surface, tore free of their leather cage, snapped straight, angling for the sky.

blood in the wavering air, flung from those bones as they reached for the sky -sparkles of crimson jewels.

a flowering: flesh blossomed from shoulder blades, veins raced up the bones -quavering, pulsating mass that sculpted itself into muscles and tendons.

he knelt down on cracked earth, dust swirling about him like demons. head bowed in shadows, shoulders hunched, he flexed. limbs that grew from shoulder blades twitched, electrical impulses racing down the information highway of newly connected veins and tendons, the limbs stretched, closed up, and stretched apart to find their span.

on all fours, he arched his back as bile fought its way up his throat to be expunged onto the thirsty earth. flesh began to replicate epidermal cells under the harsh glare of the cyclopean sun. newly formed skin desiccated, burnt and toughened into scales.

he flexed, striking up a breeze, feeling the air dance about him. he stretched, stretched to the limits of his body, and continued stretching, pushing with his will. it began slowly, tiny depressions, pinpricks in his new limbs, quills forcing their way out with beads of blood. in the span of two breaths, his limbs were punctured and bristling with quills. with another breath, still-damp feathers exploded, showering the air with minute droplets of blood that dotted the hungry earth.

still on all fours, his lifted his head to look at the shadow he cast. he stretched, watching his shadow elongate; he flexed, feeling muscles move in response, seeing a shadow he didnt recognise. he beat, raising up a storm around him, a storm of demons, dust in his eyes as he squinted at those gigantic span of limbs.

fingers digging into the dirt, he looked upon the shadow of his wings.

 

[vurtomatic]

i want to walk, a long distance, a far distance, i want to walk a neverending distance. alone with my own company i want to walk. i'll walk on the streets of the plastic wonderland, following the the bronze compass set in the worn bricked path. my doppelanger following my footsteps, jumping from a window of dolls accessorised in animal hides to a window of multi-layered fractal-like squares that dazzle my mind. i'll catch his eye in a reflected glint of sunlight filtered green and shaded grey, with a rascally grin, that's my doppelanger of fractal shards, we walk in step but never touch.

i'll walk past people: students loitering around after school because they're too cool to go home, laughing and shouting their invincibility to the air; baskers on the streets playing the sax with a lonesome haunting that resonates empty tunnels and emptier lives, beating the drums and itching my gait, dancing to music that descends in the air like autumn leaves, beatboxing into a mic -like an undiscovered language of a faraway place where bass stalks the streets; rattling tin cans of charity layering a staccato over percussive slaps and the boom chuka boom chuka chuk chuk.

i'll walk past lovers: highschool kids in the blossom of their first loves; a couple walks lazily, feet finding their way easily; a couple looks around, deciding their next destination -their first, or their last; a couple sits perched on a railing, sipping a shared drink, smoking a cigarette each; another sits a few meters away, one sullen, the other entreating, yet another looks up into the bright golden sky, eyes trailing after a balloon floating from their grasps; old partners in life treading carefully over a bumpy pavement, hands curled up familiarly in each other.

i'll walk past shells: automatons whose chests rise and fall in a mimicry of life, in all shapes and sizes, an oncoming wall of dead eyes and tired souls. they can't stop but carry on, moment to moment to hours to days they'll go on, one after the other, child succeeding the parent on the production line that ends in a drop.

i'll walk past people going about their day, sitting in the sun, walking the dogs, wearing their shades, jogging to music, balancing bagfuls of shopping.

and i'll walk past you too.

i'll keep walking onward and forward, keep walking with no direction in mind except to walk, that's what i want to do. i want to walk over familiar paths and revisit my selves, i want to stumble on unknown grounds and discover my selves... i shall trace a pattern of deaths and rebirths and growths and rebirths and deaths into the ground and with every pass of this one truth of many, that it shall be realised, my true path.

i want to walk a mobieus strip, i want to walk lines i want to walk horizons, i want to walk the length of a love, i want to walk the breadth of a heart, i want to walk the depth of despair, i want to walk the boundaries of my existence and step off into something beyond, my existence.

i'll walk on pebbled roads dark with damp, mercury silver with puddled light. roads that convolute and undulate, roads that thread a city like streams of blood and we beat its heart.

i'll walk in the fine mist of a drizzle showering the scape gold, under street lamps that come on one by glowing one, minature suns of the descending velvet sky.

i'll walk to the end of the world, and off it -onto a piece of the night, stars marking my way, i'll walk from twinkle to sparkle i'll walk...

___________into forever

______________________cos i dont want to stop.

 

[vurtomatic]

it began, insignificantly, innocuously, inconsequentially, with a particle of dust. a miniscule particle in a maelstrom of particles, thrown hither and thither by even smaller molecules of air.

a drop in temperature -below freezing. as the Celsius and Fahrenheit drop, do you realise how cold that is, below freezing? i mean, do you know how cold it is, beyond the syntax of a number? cold enough there is a metamorphosis in physical states. from nothing to something, an unfolding of space, a flowering of matter -genesis.

i confess, i am not privy to the details, i cannot give a first-hand account, of course.

within my mind, water vapour was all around, the particle floated in it up where the air was too thin. water vapour wrapped itself around this invisible mote, perhaps caressing it with a filigree of misty tendrils, billowing up around it, enveloping it like a shy bud that hid its naviete. as the air cooled around the particle, water vapour coalesced into an indistinct form. as temperature dropped further, the form stiffened, grew frigid as planes and edges were defined.

lines that intersected into a delicate, symmetrical lace of hexagons. a core of cold that diffused the roots of a tree seeking moisture. reflection and refraction about its transparent structure. so fine it broke light up into its component colours.

beautiful fragility.

a crystal mote, one of millions, invisible in the restless crowd but uniquely individual, buffeted by currents beyond its control, yet strong enough to ride them buoyant.

without my mind, i felt the chill air bite my naked face. collar turned up, i hid my cheeks between its tips as i hunched my shoulders, dug my hands into the warmth of my pockets. a wind was building up, i could feel it whipping about me, finding its voice, revving itself into howl. the sky was deepening into a growling grey with flashes of light that accentuated the looming frescos of clouds.

i looked up into the portentous sky. i felt it then -the lightest touch, a sharp cold at the point of contact between my brows that caused my skin to tighten around it.

for the briefest moment of a blink of my life, a moment that stilled time and stretched into eternity, my attention riveted around that moment -i felt a pinprick of cold penetrate my skin, into my being.

just a quickly as it alighted, the heat emanating from my body infused its icy core and there remained a warmth where it touched me.

all that was left, my memory of a snowflake.

 

[vurtomatic]

it's strange isnt it, when u let somebody into ur heart? it's like moving into a new apartment, but taking place over weeks, maybe months. with a key like any other key, maybe even found on the streets randomly or by capricious fate, the tenants find the door to our heart and opens it.

slowly the new tenant creeps stealthily in the moonlight, when the streets are empty and quiet, carrying bundles on the back, maybe boxes. the tenants move little bits of themselves every night, into the empty room. unpacks their effects, and very slowly, imperceptible to our eyes, they puts a bit of themselves into this room in our hearts. slowly fills it up, until one day, we come home, step through the door, and find these... beautiful sparkles of lights on the window sills, on the walls; around the room, all lit up.

the room is reduced to forms and shapes of light and we wonder where they came from.

it feels like being a child and waking up to christmas, it feels like magic.

just like that, a barbed hook dug into our hearts.

 

[vurtomatic]

I remember the morning sun coming in through the window. Dust floating in its pale yellow path, catching the light and sparkling, trailing falling slowly turning in their tiny orbits, each a minature star.

Your head on my lap, the nub of my knee contacting the round of your scalp... almost painful in a numbing manner. I remember your pale fair skin translucent, I could see just beneath it and these fine fine veins calling to me. Your hair, tousled and stiff from perspiration after a night out, falling across that translucence like a veil. The rest of it, draped and fanned over my knee like a shawl. Your eyelashes, they held the sunlight in them, like fingers in supplication.

You exerted a gravity upon me. Gradually, in my unthinking exhaustion, my unquestioning action, I leant in, grazing my lips upon your cheek. You were cold and if not for your shallow breath, I would have... I don't know, probably thought you dead. No, I could hear the slightest escape of air from your nose, cool and with a distinct scent. I kissed your cheek, I kissed your ear and I followed the form, I followed the lines, I trailed down your face along the soft curve of your jaw line and I kissed, I kissed you.

Till you awoke and asked me what I was doing and me, in my stupor, I continued kissing and my lips found your questioning lips and you, you kissed me and I never once stopped to wonder, like it was the most natural thing in the world that you would kiss me and you were soft, and dry and then moist and we kissed and the question was answered and we were sealed.

 

[vurtomatic]

Voices, too many voices in my head. Each of them distinct and one. A hailstorm of voices, storming around my ears. They talk to each other as though I am ephemeral, they talk to me though I don't know them and I talk to them because, they are there. Voices, all around me, voices. Chittering like black jewelled, helmed insects with shiny faceted eyes like the many revealing faces of onyx. Dry voices that emit from human lips from which mandibles sprout. Human lips that mouth incongruously on insectoid heads, antennae stroking the air, fondling it in some pagan ritualistic motions of moulding thoughts. I see my face in the air between those antennae, being moulded shaped pulled poked touched felt my lips moving by volition and dry voices emitting from human lips. I look into those eyes and I see myself reflected I see myself reflected I see myself reflected I see myself reflected I see myself reflected I see myself reflected I see my... eyes broken into shards into facets shiny faceted eyes each a revealing onyx face that grins manically and mocks my one blind voice.

 

[vurtomatic]

I look down into the broken skein of an egg that is a yellow like a wavering sun late in the afternoon but just before twilight, sunny side up, it is all gooey flowy like how I'd imagine a heart to melt. Lips pursed, I lower my face almost touching I can breathe it in and, my lips make contact and, I inhale I suck I slurp that gooey warmth into my mouth. I can feel it flowing and contouring around every nook, every cranny of my mouth as it envelopes my tongue and coats it with a stickiness like treacle but not sweet. My tongue rears itself, strokes the roof coating more of that rich on every ridge and I swallow with a diving lump and I imagine my broken liquid sun lighting up the dark corridor of my oesophagus into the darker depths of my bowels where it pools like mercury with a solidity and weight.

And I imagine, this is how love tastes: a melted heart that is a broken sun, or a broken heart of a melted sun.