Sense and Sensation

Originally Posted: 9/16/07

I pressed my liar's lips to the sky and wondered if she loved me. A caustic kiss, was my reply. I've drank deep from waters pure, and suckled filth and woe. I've walked across the desert, sand like glass beneath my feet, as I have walked the praries atop a carpet of green. I have seen the darkness growing in the North. I have seen the light in emerald eyes.

-----------------------

I can hear the nightingale. I can hear the morning bird. I can hear the evil thoughts in your heart. I can hear a widow moaning, grief unbridled amidst the night. I can hear a star, a weeping child lost alone in nothing. I can hear a subtle shifting of the shadows, the sigh of your very soul as it lingers on this world.

I can see the glory of victory. I can see the despair of death. I can see what you can see. I can see my breath. I can see the storm that brews, in the sky as in your mind. The storm that ravages. The storm that heals. The storm that weeps, but never feels. I can see the signs of war in everything. I can see the Beam above me, perhaps not everlasting.

I can taste the bitterness in your words. I can taste the resentment on your tongue. I can taste the tenderness, that sweet longing to be had between your legs. I can taste the sweat, the pain, the ache of generations on the air. I can taste the sacrifices men have made on hallowed ground. I can taste the sorrow, the joy, the love, the hate of all mankind upon the earth.

I can feel you in me. I can feel your fingers sliding deeper, exploring, questing to know, to understand. I can feel the way you shift against me, demanding more, demanding that I belong to you. I can feel your hatred for my every spoken word. I can feel your ignorance. I can feel your widsom.

I smell shit.

-----------------------------

The senses are easily raptured. Remember that. Anything can enthrall us with something physical. Manipulate a smell, a sight, a sound and suddenly our minds become null and void. Our thought, our higher intellect, becomes subject to instinct and though our feelings may not be subjugated, our bodies are dominated. And with that, comes the more difficult, though by no means impossible, tyranny of the heart. For once your body is controlled, the mind is sure to follow.

For all our growth from primitive creatures, we are so easily enslaved.

Again and again, I pray thee take me home,
- S. Rider