Sunday, August 10, 2008

Standing outside

Standing outside looking in, it is all just hairless beasts. It is just mindless fucking, the key to the survival of the species.

I watch the prelude to the dance out there, on the street. I observe it all quietly, a predator myself, and I can spot the rest of us. Shark-like. Slowly moving in a chosen direction, glancing into the windows and the doorways, but without a sense of urgency. I watch the sharks stop to talk and in an instant it is clear if they are hungry or distracted. I can smell the imminent kill.

We are the eaten or the eaters but sometimes, quite often, we fall outside the feeding frenzy.

I am standing outside looking in. I am not the eater or the eaten. I look, but I no longer participate. I am growing older. Grown old. I have become invisible in the scheme of things, and because I am content in my marriage I am no longer the shark, sauntering by. I look, but I refuse to participate. There is no frenzied kill, there is no sex.

No sex.

Standing outside of it all, there is no sex.


Song of the Siren said...

These post's are getting sadder and sadder. Although poignant, I think you need to get outside and get some fresh they say.

Furious Vaginas said...

Well I spent the day catching fish with my hands tied behind my back on a boat called "Pleasure Craft", so expect something a bit more up beat one day soon.

Song of the Siren said...

But did you catch any?

Furious Vaginas said...

13 fish. I am a fishing genius

LiteraryMinded said...

Sometimes you want to get eaten but you become the eater. Sometimes the other animal expects you to be in control so you just take that role.
How do you express that sometimes you want to be vulnerable?