How the Muse buds
Everything matters. Like a hose kinking it’s when the water stops that you notice. You become irritated and disgruntled looking back to see the problem plain as day staring at you. Such is life.
As you unfold it you can feel the pulsating pressure build up within the dark tunnel, fluid then suddenly charges through your hands throbbing, searching and seeking an exit.
The fluid gushes out and nothing can stop it. Until the next kink which is usually once you’ve relaxed and it happens again.
It feels good but it’s a dream. A tension filled wet dream from dark matter. So dark in fact that evens this massless particle is non-existent. He pushed and probed gasping with deep breath and tiny inhalations of frustration. The intensity is only surmounted by the audience who look on at the master: they are fully focused and dry lipped.
Like the holder of the gushing hose which feeds off the yearning buds hankering for a wetting, he too becomes ejaculatory with the unkinking and gushing flow. But that happens later and there is no outlet. Fuck it.
How did it come to this?
It was a dance and when you do the thigmotropic and transmundane dance in broad daylight your exposed and she’s confused and the world spins faster, the hose kinks tighter, the flow builds up and suppressing it only creates unintended phantasies which have to see the light of night.
She saw this concomitance when their eyes glazed each other. It was instantaneous. Immediate. A hairs breadth – he was oscillating in the tunnel and didn’t see.
Is it possible to go insane from another?
It’s nice-take me there.