Day 19- fractal push

Slavkox Deviant Art 

I want to tell you what it's like to be the girl on the ceiling and the girl on the floor at the same time. How I am both pushed and pushing, taken and taking, torn and tearing into me. It's like trying to tell a secret in a canyon that echoes back on you till you can't tell the original sound from the reflecting sounds.

This is some kind of crazy making-  The writing. The doing. The telling. This is some kind of crazy feeling being me and me and me, time traveler, my own ghost haunting me. The mirrors are all cracking around me from the weight of this bending of physics and gravity.

It should be straight forward and hot. It would be great if it were hot wouldn't it?

And it should be hot, this reaching in between my legs, finding that little slip of clit and feeling it get bigger and slicker under my hands, the movement, the slip becoming a hook, becoming sharp and hard and ready, the fantasy should be you, against an alley wall leaning back, waiting and me on my knees before you, my mouth watering for your cock, your cunt. That should be enough. The fantasy should be me, standing against the alley wall, feeling that brick bite into my back feeling your teeth bite around my fingers as I force them into your mouth and push you back and down and move in on you, move into you.

It should be quick hot, hard, wet, slip slide to the building of tension, of squeezing in and breathing out, all the air in the room circling the girl in the spray of her own cunt washing up on the shore of her disbelief, taking her down, in and out again and again.

It would be
if I were just
one person in just one time just in the now.

But I am kaleidoscopic creature
wet and heated through and hard and sharp
I am full grown and on top
I am tiny and being eaten bite by tasty bite
I am on the ceiling looking down
I am here and opening breathing tasting
myself, the memories in the air
the sound of the end of everything
the loss of fine tuned control
I am a lizard, a fossil, a dead thing
lying still on the floor.

I am a wild thing keening
looking for home
in between my own yielded thighs
stretching out and out
opening up more and more
I am searching with two wet  hands and all
of my short fingers
for the truth
in scale and rock on the insides
of my cunt
I am finding my truth
in dead shell and hieroglyph
in salty certainty and almost there

and I do come in the end
a  half hour in, sweating from the effort,
the day
the fever
the buzz
I have used fingers and tools
mind and prayers
I have used you and me
in every permutation
and in the end it was done
with such severity I cramped all day
my cunt needing more, the dark things had their way
won me the coming hard wrung, worn out.

I want to tell you about this strange triumph I know in this: that I can open my thighs at all- ever.
For anyone, for you, for me. I want to tell you how strange and amazing this simple thing is.
I want you to understand what it's like to be me because I want to look into your eyes and see myself
fractal and whole all at once.
I want to see you see me.
I am looking for a blessing on this, my way.