Sometimes around 3 before the birds start chirping and after every sound but the every hum has ceased I like to play dead.
I like to let my body go limp and pretend Iām at the vergeā¦ somedays Iāll entice it by harming myself a little.
Nothing major, I could never leave a mark on the vessel.. the body is too precious to hold memory of such erotic situations.
At first there was fear, letting my eyes twitch and my body spasm.. I thought this is the death I wanted to mimic, one with kicking and screaming.. maybe not verbally but of the body. Something so unspeakably viscous one could not speak. I want the why my body flailed to speak its wail, to untold magnitudes.
As time went on, the practice became quieter. I learned to use my eyes to mimic the fleeting moments of life.
Blurring vision and then separation, flickering between lucid and reality. The lights forming the the tunnel and as I would get closer oh the colors would bloom.
From the corners warding darkness like a vignette sprung blotches and streaks of yellows, purples and greens.
I felt my eyes roll back my vision slipping further apart so much so I could see between both eyes. Colors blasting and radiating from my retinas I kept focus on the light ahead and how it warped.
As if I was trapped in stasis. Surrounded by a soundless void watching my sun rapidly live its own cycle of life.
The flow of heat, of color, of delusion it was elatingā¦ almost orgasmic without stimulation, without activation. A different kind of fuck.
Like slamming dough back together my vision rejoined almost as if it had never separated. As if it could never conjure up such deviations.
When should I rest
