Probable destruction

Ye Goddess! It’s another goshdarn eclipse – and it’s in Scorpio!!!.

Scorpio – be kind to everyone else. Yes, we know you are intense as all … but remember no one else in the zodiac can DEAL with you hopped up on Saturn severity, Mercury high-speed intellect, Moon madness AND the usual Scorpio intensanity. (Except Sagittarius or Aquarius because in the former case, she doesn’t really care, and in the latter she is more than a little fascinated with measuring and documenting the experience and the subsequent fireworks for her research on human beings.) Scorpio Sun, Moon or Ascendants – this is going to be powerfully intense for you, but you’re a Scorpio so, it’s probably not deeply problematic eh?

What is the probability, do you think, that you will notice me again? my complete and utter destruction, internal conflict like no other time. I don’t say that, in case it’s true, instead I say, “it’s you?” What is the probability that you can handle me, apparently most cannot, don’t want, I am too much, easier not to care. Can you remove your rubber gloves, your clinicians coat, all of my clothes and feel me here, find my love.

“What is the probability,” I pause searching for words, in your eyes I hope to see the truth, feel your strength and touch your wisdom, but more than that. You bring me coffee early in the morning hours, waking me gently with your breath. FInd me here in your place, my place the same we love. I can coax out your aloofness, the chances are not good, you standing apart, away just watching, “that you desire me?”

In all my mess, could you see the beauty waiting for your hands. Study me thoroughly, finding my spot, the spot for us both to just be. I’ve come out the other side, a phoenix in need of repair, barely breathing, I said take off your gloves. To you I do not say please, it is an order, remove them all. Feel me gently, quivering you will be, can you taste the salt of the earth, upon my face.

I see you now, across the barrel room, and I know, i practically run. To you I say “hi,” wondering into your eyes smiling on me. “please, can you help me, settle a something, I am just… but first you have a little something there,” I gesture to your lips by touching my own slowly, thinking I could be funny now. You look at me with some confusion as I moisten my mouth, my thoughts impure, completely honest. I’m sorry, I say, I really just wanted to see you touch yourself, for me, like I touch myself for you; but I don’t really say that. Instead I continue, as you touch your lip at my command, “no, it’s here, a little of that avocado sauce from the ahi tartare, I could almost lick it off for you,” I say now breaking the uncomfortable feeling with a burst of laughter, “it’s that good. Don’t you think? I’ve already had more than my share.” I share, want, need too much of everything, my flaws, can make me seem the fool. But you know from your studies, really, it’s the theory of everything I know and want.

You look at me now, seeing something real for the first time, and smiling say, “Thank you, I would’ve been walking around like that forever,” you sort of laugh a breath knowingly, “they would probably publish the pictures of it in that glossy-gossip rag.” I tilt my head, thinking about that, shivering a bit at the thought of having my pictures, our picture, posted all over the glossies. I don’t want any of that fame, maybe the fortune could work, I am not sure about that either, as it probably just complicates what is real. tho i would like to just pose for the picture with you, feeling you get closer, putting your hand on me, somewhere else my mind would go. But lets go there now, get a little tighter in, can you? the photographer asks. You smile knowing the proper way to direct, for emotional appeal, for me, too. Tell me how it would be, how should I look, be, touch to arouse you most. Or maybe that is all too much, do you need to stop wanting to be alone? I know the feeling here, in my bed, writing with a certain intensanity.

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