EM pulse

The belt securely in place I wandered. I don't remember if it was the springs or the falls that I ended up at. I was still sick. I shivered and felt my stomach cave every time I tried to move too quickly. My head swam with the buzzing of the white noise. Lord of the flies I was not, they were not listening to me at all but I was certainly getting their message.

My eye was bothering me. Leaking .. I kept trying to swipe it away. The pressure behind it was intense and I wondered if the ball would escape the socket and fall into my hand. Would it be attached still by tendons and sinew like a spider's catch? Or would it be free. Free to fall and roll against my fingers. The thought amused me. I think the beautiful people slave was there. I think my little red angel was there. I think I spoke to her about self righteousness. Or was it the woman? At first I didn't remember her. I knew I should but I didn't. I kept waiting for her to say something, do something that would trigger my memory. Then she touched the air just in front of my face and I knew instantly. Like tiny webbed fissures the frore rivulets spread over the fever of my brain and I knew her. Athame. The woman that could spark the feeling. She had so much to give away and I had so much room to take. She was asking me of frigid. I was mad at frigid. I remember that. I was mad at her for thinking her right trumped my correct. Silly ass female. I don't bend my knee to right, I am not so narrow minded to think that right rules the universe. I'm bigger and stronger than right. At least when I am correct.

I asked for Athame's hand. She wouldn't give it to me. I don't blame her. Perhaps she thinks I will take her all and give nothing back. Perhaps I would. I have plenty of nothing to spare. But she did what I needed for the moment. She gave me a tiny gelid star to follow. A bit of icy pain to quiet the suckling seraphim. Their voracious appetite eased off for a few blessed moments.

The beautiful people slave has nearly as much agony to offer me. How interesting that is. Perhaps it explains what she is doing so far from where she belongs. I have yet to decide whether or not I will feed from it. Whether or not it will set on my stomach well.

I wasn't very good company. The sickness so strong in me. I left. I remember now how to use the pain. I remember now the velvet petals of slicing agony that let the pressure. I will nestle in their perfect embrace until the cephalic chorus fades and I can return to some semblance of atypical existence.