by Patricio
(01/10/01)
You kneel naked at his study door and he reads your body. He reads what you've written on your body and doesn't understand. Goddesses, why doesn't he understand your gift to him?
Ah, but isn't there, nevertheless, a tiny trumpet blowing in the
recesses of your mind, a small triumph wanting to celebrate itself?...That
you have achieved some level of complexity he can't comprehend?
And then he says Blablablabla whip bla, in your ear,
fast, and as he lifts you by your nipples till you're standing,
you feel, once the pain eases, a twinge, yes, of disappointment:
that trumpet stifled...