The best way I know how to explain my state of mind is that when a certain amount of time goes by of dealing with day to day life, the ups and the downs, I can sense within myself the need for something intense; something 'connecting'; enabling; settling; pacifying.
Only migraine sufferers would understand this, but the white light so prevalent this Spring can make my days most challenging. I want to keep going and to achieve; to be helpful, cheerful, bright. However, all the positivism in the world does not stop my head from feeling foggy and dim.
If at all possible I take to my bed and let sleep take me over, but the weariness is still there when I wake. The yawning begins as if, like Rip Van Winkle, no amount of slumber is ever quite enough. It bores and bothers me. The weather of this city and its effect on me makes me wonder if there isn't some other place to live, where the sky has made up its mind and wouldn't dream of producing a thick layer of dirty cotton wool to hang over my head.
You might garner that I'm not myself and need some cheering, but perhaps not really understand nor appreciate the reasons why this would be so. You might think that a visit to a wonderful exhibition at the City's Gallery would pick me up, and you'd be right. The opportunity to feast on beauty does wonders for the spirits, but home again, and there it is again; that miserable murky white/grey crud called 'cloud' which makes my head spin to the point of feeling unbalanced and unsettled all over again.
There is nothing else to do but take such a girl to her bedroom, undress her and put her miserable head into a tight, black latex covering. Relief is to be found in the abyss; the dark nothingness below the surface of the rubber; the slow breathing of the Objekt; the mindset that she is just a thing, a toy with which to play.
Objects, chairs for example, don't complain, and nor do slutti fucktoyz. You can spank their pussies really rather hard and they will barely register the ruckus. The pinching of the nipples that a girl might have something to say about is purely play to a fucktoy, an enticement.
When such a fucktoy puts her hands to the top of her smooth, shiny, rubberhead, she wonders, 'but where did the fucktoy's head go?' for the brains have been banished. It's part of the great 'nothingness' now; peace.Yet, sensations surprise the toy. If she could speak she'd say the only 'thought' on her mind.
'Fuck the bimbo. Fuck the bimbo. Fuck the bimbo.'
It would be tempting to 'take' the bimbo, wallow in the Objekt; thrust away, cum. But, an opportunity would be missed to blend with the bimbo; watch the Objekt transform. Think of Dana becoming Zuull in The Ghost Busters and you are right on the money. Why not interact with the entity? Why miss the show?
As luck would have it, it was at this moment of the proceedings when there was a knock on the bedroom door. Deep in the Objekt head, all tied up, plundered, news came of the catastrophic event, a friend's death. The girl was needed immediately.
I can confirm in a very real way that it takes time to come back to reality; to resume one's footing in a vast, forever moving and random world; it takes time and space.
Only migraine sufferers would understand this, but the white light so prevalent this Spring can make my days most challenging. I want to keep going and to achieve; to be helpful, cheerful, bright. However, all the positivism in the world does not stop my head from feeling foggy and dim.
If at all possible I take to my bed and let sleep take me over, but the weariness is still there when I wake. The yawning begins as if, like Rip Van Winkle, no amount of slumber is ever quite enough. It bores and bothers me. The weather of this city and its effect on me makes me wonder if there isn't some other place to live, where the sky has made up its mind and wouldn't dream of producing a thick layer of dirty cotton wool to hang over my head.
You might garner that I'm not myself and need some cheering, but perhaps not really understand nor appreciate the reasons why this would be so. You might think that a visit to a wonderful exhibition at the City's Gallery would pick me up, and you'd be right. The opportunity to feast on beauty does wonders for the spirits, but home again, and there it is again; that miserable murky white/grey crud called 'cloud' which makes my head spin to the point of feeling unbalanced and unsettled all over again.
There is nothing else to do but take such a girl to her bedroom, undress her and put her miserable head into a tight, black latex covering. Relief is to be found in the abyss; the dark nothingness below the surface of the rubber; the slow breathing of the Objekt; the mindset that she is just a thing, a toy with which to play.
Objects, chairs for example, don't complain, and nor do slutti fucktoyz. You can spank their pussies really rather hard and they will barely register the ruckus. The pinching of the nipples that a girl might have something to say about is purely play to a fucktoy, an enticement.
When such a fucktoy puts her hands to the top of her smooth, shiny, rubberhead, she wonders, 'but where did the fucktoy's head go?' for the brains have been banished. It's part of the great 'nothingness' now; peace.Yet, sensations surprise the toy. If she could speak she'd say the only 'thought' on her mind.
'Fuck the bimbo. Fuck the bimbo. Fuck the bimbo.'
It would be tempting to 'take' the bimbo, wallow in the Objekt; thrust away, cum. But, an opportunity would be missed to blend with the bimbo; watch the Objekt transform. Think of Dana becoming Zuull in The Ghost Busters and you are right on the money. Why not interact with the entity? Why miss the show?
As luck would have it, it was at this moment of the proceedings when there was a knock on the bedroom door. Deep in the Objekt head, all tied up, plundered, news came of the catastrophic event, a friend's death. The girl was needed immediately.
I can confirm in a very real way that it takes time to come back to reality; to resume one's footing in a vast, forever moving and random world; it takes time and space.
one just loves the way you express yourself....the fact that one can relate to it...smiles...life goes on as always...hugs
ReplyDeleteblossom: If you incur migraines, I've found that daily magnesium and vitamin B helps. I had stopped taking them daily whilst on vacation which may explain why the headaches returned. I also concentrate on trying to feel 'grounded' and not to take in the sky. But, if I do experience a migraine headache a dark room and sleep seems to be the only cure for me.
ReplyDeletehave done in the past vesta...thank you for the tips....yes one would lie in a dark room and sleep too to help....hope you aren't bothered too much with them
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