She shows up wearing only a raincoat, and holding a vid in her hand…
We spoke earlier on the phone and agreed that our visit would be quick. I ask if she can help rid me of these unkind nightmares, to which she agrees we try. A common ritual as if to pretend either one cares beyond these next couple of hours…

Our history is vague but enduring. To say that she is an extremely strange girl doesn’t really describe her shortcomings, nor my attraction for her. Although, in brief, she remains physically detached from most people; preferring instead to observe from safe distances. I strongly identify with this.

I’m not looking to save her. I don’t imagine anyone can. She knows too much about living inside of herself, and what can never be repaired from wrongful experiences. She is downright scary when she opens her mouth to speak of this pain too. Her best position is in being fucked, because it seems to erase the hindrance. At least temporarily…

I give her lots of gifts. Expensive trinkets. Shit she doesn’t care about. I don’t sign any of the attached cards. My messages are always crude in nature. But, I like to think these shallow remarks make her laugh…

“Come over, I need a body to crush..”
“I don’t love you, but I’ll fuck you.”
“You are nothing but a stropping wet cunt to me.”
“I want to fill you up with my sticky hatred.”
“If you were anyone else, I might consider supporting you.”

She has this penchant for keeping me satiated despite being so very weird. I allow her to show up unannounced – Something I won’t allow with anyone else. There isn’t a need to analyze why. The point is that she allows me to impress ‘whatever is most unbelievable’ onto her. Who wouldn’t remain open to this consideration?

Returning back into the night where she showed up wearing only the raincoat …

“Venus fly trap opens wide, and thus begins the outpouring of injured butterflies.”

-=vlip=- Movie starts, nothing is broken. Said footage is of her wriggling about on the screen. Looks like an old silent film which is kind of cool. But, the quality is fucking terrible! Tinted blood red, draped across some bed with her tits spilling out. Arm lifts up, head tilts back. The End. Begin again. Simple loop…kind of stupid.

I ask her what she expects me to do with it, and she turns around. Oh fuck, there it is. The instant bone killer. Standing with a river of tears streaming down her face, I start thinking of ways to switch off. But, then she removes the raincoat as though some dissonant alarm has gone off within. We return to the reason ‘why’ she came over. This instant arrives where all is understood…

Slow motions of a woman lost inside pose. A time far removed from where we now stand. My guard lowers, and I’m following the weakness head first – Running, not walking to the golden speckle fuck inducer. I want her breathing heavy underneath me, if only to help her forget.

I want all of it…except for those tears.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/wormintruder/4169834328 (The Red Video)

http://www.flickr.com/photos/wormintruder/4169092987

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*Feeling like I should reiterate the objective of this journal for those new to the site!

Here goes:

As terrible as my writing can be…I still like to consider myself somewhat of a storyteller. What this specifically means is that some of my journal entries will be works of fiction, with actual events used sparingly! Not every journal entry is true…not every journal entry is a complete lie either! It all varies as per presentation. My recycling techniques are also legendary around these parts. In this instance, it is the video. Why? Because it fits the tale! Best advice is to refrain from taking it all so ‘literally’.

Feel something! Feel anything! Take care till next time~