I live in Asymmetry:
the means by which charge is built up.
The farther life stretches me,
the more thunderous will my lightning be.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
High Voltage
Friday, December 4, 2009
Exorcism N. 1: The Parabola
It starts from Surprise:
An open attitude to the world of humans makes for the base ingredient.
The marvel at having been found by another beautiful, intelligent, connecting human being, makes for having been taken aback all of a sudden.
It raises to Hope:
The projection of my needs upon that human being.
The transfiguration of a very finite essence into an all powerful, all good, demi-god.
It itches into the first Doubts:
The early attempts to communication fall short.
A rethink of my strategy is in order.
It has to be me.
It grows into apparent Understanding:
We phase a bit, I open up and do communicate.
She seems to get more things nearly right, all of a sudden.
It peaks into Love:
I give her a night of Love (capital, L), she receives a night of "very good sex" (citation, here).
I give myself entirely, and never get caught, not even in bits.
But it is a night of very good sex, what a comfort that is.
She obviously isn't aware of the price I am paying.
It rapidly decreases into Insult:
Got a foot over the heart's door, and that's way too invasive.
Sex is over, my head standing as a beautiful mantelpiece by the Owls and Deers.
Nothing's due anymore.
It changes into Abuse:
I am useful, limited to her needs.
What is lurking here, behind the beautiful image?
Why am I being thrown and tossed, shaken and ultimately whipped into doing what she wants,
and that alone?
It becomes Strive, mine, for her, or her image:
I out-try myself, find new meanings to patience and understanding,
condone, pardon, forgive the lot, and pay the price myself.
I can not let go of her.
It Ends as it ought to:
I lose patience, spit it out as for what it is,
She closes, and drops me dead in the blink of an eye.
Someone as fascinating, but more useful, has come around.
Time to revolve the doors.
There's no turning a Parabola into a perfect Circle.
'ave it, you twat: you deserved it.
Really this is the fool's corner.
An open attitude to the world of humans makes for the base ingredient.
The marvel at having been found by another beautiful, intelligent, connecting human being, makes for having been taken aback all of a sudden.
It raises to Hope:
The projection of my needs upon that human being.
The transfiguration of a very finite essence into an all powerful, all good, demi-god.
It itches into the first Doubts:
The early attempts to communication fall short.
A rethink of my strategy is in order.
It has to be me.
It grows into apparent Understanding:
We phase a bit, I open up and do communicate.
She seems to get more things nearly right, all of a sudden.
It peaks into Love:
I give her a night of Love (capital, L), she receives a night of "very good sex" (citation, here).
I give myself entirely, and never get caught, not even in bits.
But it is a night of very good sex, what a comfort that is.
She obviously isn't aware of the price I am paying.
It rapidly decreases into Insult:
Got a foot over the heart's door, and that's way too invasive.
Sex is over, my head standing as a beautiful mantelpiece by the Owls and Deers.
Nothing's due anymore.
It changes into Abuse:
I am useful, limited to her needs.
What is lurking here, behind the beautiful image?
Why am I being thrown and tossed, shaken and ultimately whipped into doing what she wants,
and that alone?
It becomes Strive, mine, for her, or her image:
I out-try myself, find new meanings to patience and understanding,
condone, pardon, forgive the lot, and pay the price myself.
I can not let go of her.
It Ends as it ought to:
I lose patience, spit it out as for what it is,
She closes, and drops me dead in the blink of an eye.
Someone as fascinating, but more useful, has come around.
Time to revolve the doors.
There's no turning a Parabola into a perfect Circle.
'ave it, you twat: you deserved it.
Really this is the fool's corner.
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