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The Violence of Dulcinea

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By rocketllama
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There's one argument that I accept, but I'm not saying what it is. I thought maybe once that having ends at both ends would make sure nothing slipped out, but everything just flowed more freely.  Like a bug on a hatchet, we watched helpless as they screamed themselves into silence. Nothing could be done. It felt cold, and the wind was wet as we gazed mouths agape at things we never wanted to see. I won't argue, because I might tell you what convinces me, but I'd say there's a great big hole where happiness tries to be that isn't shaped like happiness. I'll proclaim loudly the death of meaning as long as you let me explain it.

We held the greasy railing in sweaty fists and moved our moths in silence, but lacking belief we couldn't accept what we saw, and we pretend it didn't happen.

Nothing ever happens.

If I could only tell you all the things that never happen I would render unto you the silence owed to Caesar, and beg forgiveness for something I don't understand I never did because it never happens. You're like a sweet dream that doesn't represent anything except what I beg to believe. Why don't you permit it? I see heaven when I see thee!

I can only imagine the prayers wasted on love. I can barely discern the scent of love that permeates the perfume of lust. I am unaware. Deliver me from knowledge into the lap of certainty. Do not deliver from, but into. Do nto spare me, but close my shutters that I may smash them. You do not have to listen to me to believe me. Ignore my meaning and hear my words.

Every lie is true music stolen from the orchard of song, each more magnificent than the last. Every sight I see creates interior truth under the lie lying outside. I am entranced. I am enchanted. I am cursed. I am consumed. Don't grasp, but linger. I can't breathe without breathing you. I can't sleep where your shade can't find me.

Flee! I gasp at myself. I am only chained by my own hand. Still you assault me with staggering fragrance.

We woke up that morning hair drenched in fear, shaking like a table in a thunderstorm. We marched where they lead us again. We watched the things you did. Our souls peeled away inside if like flesh pulling off an apple. We screamed silent shrieks of fear and felt every little death tingling down, curling our toes sight unseen. Nothing ever happens and it makes us inhuman. For one moment the light shimmered off it as it flashed a million times over in and down and out and through and around. Everything drenched in life as it burst from all ends.

Won't you lift me up like the implements you chose. What's the meaning you want from me? Can I never think again? Like pennies on my tongue when the moon makes a pass at me. Over and over again. Spiced wine I become intoxicated with rejected potential. Won't you touch me won't you lift me up like the other ones? Won't you let me watch again please god make it stop. Let me drown in the wine of your body's violence and trace my lust on every lithe curve of your winding paths as you measure and cut that fabric laid out before you. Nothing ever.

We don't measure the bodies anymore. What happens?
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