Oh, this hunger won’t shut up
It’s manifested itself into a physical transformation to the effect that I can slip my pants on and off without the need for buttons and zippers.
This could be good news for you.
Everytime I go to eat, my appetite winces, my eyes rebel, and my stomach is left in knots. Even alcohol doesn’t stand a chance.
I can no longer distinguish hunger pains with a lump in my throat, and the only thing remotely edible are anti-anxiety pills. Which of course makes me anxious.
The only thing I hunger for is a lean body, filled with dark thoughts, consumed with the edge, the edge of decency, the edge of appropriateness, a body sated by my transgressions and unconcerned with repercussions.
And my long-lost, much desired dessert is the surprised look on your face when I transform from a skinny girl into a singing zombie, gnawing at your flesh with a depressing urgency, like a prisoner released into a smorgasbord.
But I wasted away, maybe you did, too, and the images in my head don’t match up to the girl in the mirror. On the inside I feel like a patchwork figure, and on the outside I look like a platinum angel, and some days I don’t have the energy to open my eyes. You were toxic to my system, but the replacements have been even more detrimental, so I’m left with a diet of longing and confusion.
Of course nothing I wear fits me anymore, not even the memory of you.
Something About A Paperclip May 4, 2010
Prison Sex September 26, 2009
“I was so young, vestal then, you know it hurt me.
But I’m breathing, so I guess I’m still alive…”
I love that Tool song. I love Tool. I can’t honestly say that I can understand or identify with much of what is specific in their songs, particularly this one (I only just learned what “Stinkfist” was really about last year…naive!), but I don’t know, there’s just something inherently sexy and human about Maynard and his music. And I don’t just mean “sexy” like Justin Timberlake sexy, no, no, no, but pure, violent, beautiful, perverse, unique SEX. And I love and miss that.
I suppose I just miss sex, but I’ve been thinking about a LOT lately, about life and love and myself and what I want.
Question. Is it okay to have sex for the sake of having sex?
For some people, of course. And I maybe used to be one of those people. But now? Part of me says “what’s the point?” while another part says “yes, please!”
Universal dilemma. Can you really get over someone by getting under someone else? For the sake of research alone, I feel compelled to try. But I know I’ll be disappointed, and I know I will continue to be disappointed, unless I happen to find someone who feels the same way I do about Tool and Maynard James Keenan and abstract sexuality like mine.
AH! But the irony is, I already found that person. And I let him go. Or maybe he let me go. Or maybe we let each other go.
But I’m not finished. And I need help.
So. Do I keep getting back on the horse, no pun intended, or do I cross my fingers and pray and hope and wish on stars that The One Who Already Understands Me will come back?
I know, I know, if you love something, let it go…but is that enough? That’s not a guarantee.
Meanwhile, I am going to listen to Tool at top volume and find my way to a Newcastle. Pun intended.
