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14 March 2010 @ 05:53 pm
Do you suffer from occasional or frequent insomnia? Do you have any special tricks or remedies? How does it impact your life?

The clock glows, red numbers angry in the dark. My head, filled with cotton, lies heavy on the pillow and the blue circle on my computer pulses soothingly, attempting to lull me to sleep. Sleep, sleep, who can sleep in this heat? Oppressive and panting. I kick off my blanket. The sweetness of your touch always put me to sleep, but you are gone now. Your cool hands and silver eyes are missing from my humid room and I miss the cool touch of calm you brought with you when you would slip between my sheets.

Where are you now?
14 March 2010 @ 04:31 pm
It was twilight in the Emerald City. The streets were lined with snow and the brightness of the city was somehow muted in the snow and dimming light. Glinda the Good had not come to the Emerald City in many years.

They slept together on the train, sharing a small travel bed and curling up together under the dirty sheets. Glinda could feel the heat from her body and she ached to touch her- to hold her- but she didn’t dare move.

She left the shop and walked down the street, her footsteps slowed and muffled in the new snow. The street was crowded as the masses pooled into them as the workday ended and everyone made their way home. A cloaked and hooded figure stepped out of a shop and Glinda turned sharply; was that a flash of green skin?
No, just a trick of the light.

Glinda lay, half-awake, her third night, desperately trying to forget about her soft, smooth black hair, her open, parted mouth. She closed her eyes tightly and the train bumped suddenly, sending her reeling into Elphaba’s open arms. She thought she could hear her heart beating in the whole of the room, then realized that it was not her heart she heard.

Glinda hurried her pace; night was falling fast and she had dinner reservations. She returned to her hotel, tired and out of breath. She dropped her purchases on the hotel table and moved away to draw a bath; one bag spilled open and a lace veil fell onto the waiting chair.

She never could remember who began it, though it didn’t matter then. They were pressing close, ridding themselves of clothing and devouring each other’s mouths. They didn’t speak; not a cry to the Unnamed God or a breathless plea of the other’s name. They breathed harshly and moaned softly, twisting together and touching; awkwardly, newly.

She stepped into the hot water and slowly sank into the marble tub. The water turned her pale skin pink and she wrapped her arms around herself and began to cry.

“I love you,” Glinda murmured sleepily.
“I wish I could love you...” Elphaba had replied softly.
14 March 2010 @ 04:31 pm
The blood runs fast in your veins, will you follow? Run, run, run, before he catches you. But you want to be caught. A rush of cold air flowing in your lungs, out your lungs. Your heart, such a contradiction, aching for his touch yet the blood in your veins tells you to run. Your heart runs runs runs at his touch and your pretty head, dizzy, losing blood as it rushes away from him. Follow it. Follow your blood. Your blood. Oh, he is Baal, he is Moloch, he is false and you are falling, falling, falling into him.
14 March 2010 @ 04:28 pm
Dim and hazy white lights dappled her limbs in tiny specks. Leftover white Christmas strands hung haphazardly along the high arching ceilings of my apartment. The vanilla incense had nearly burned out, only the smoky wispy stick left. A familiar piano sonata drifted through my small cramped apartment; it followed the vanilla smoke, surrounding both of us in a dreamy atmosphere. The tiny specks of light were like stars on her smooth pale skin, her hair spilled like black paint on her back. I leaned down and breathlessly kissed the stars, one by one, up her slender back.

Naked flesh met naked flesh as I lowered myself onto her back and she gasped, the hair on the nape of her neck standing up. My long hair fell over my shoulders like feathers on my skin. It mixed with hers, black and white, yin and yang. I kissed her ear, softly breathing in, and she sighed, her muscles tensing and relaxing under me. Her perfect pink mouth opened slightly, her breathing heavy and shallow. Her blue nailed fingers clutched at the sides of my mattress. I wrapped my fingers in hers, our bodies making a cross on the white, white sheets.
14 March 2010 @ 04:28 pm
"Where are you little one?"

His voice was smooth, sweet, and playful. It rolled like butterscotch off his tongue and into her ears.

She saw his shoes, new shiny brown loafers, step into the room, the crisp edges of his khakis fall neatly on each side. She inhaled softly, the dusty floor cold against her cheek. She held her breath, every nerve on edge, feeling each step on the floor. He circled the room, his shoes tapping quietly as he moved.




"Where is my pretty little one?"

She heard the clink of the light-chain, and darkness fell.
14 March 2010 @ 04:20 pm
The empty street taunted her.

The hungry gutters, black and dark, waited for her, their grates like teeth waiting to devour her. They smiled at her, leering close to her as she hid behind the corner, her pale blond curls coming undone around her.

She was coming undone.

Behind her, the straw men were marching. Their hollow eyes, their empty frames. They were coming, down the hills, down the deserted streets, into the dirty city. They brought fire with them, an orange glow that announced their arrival. She saw the glow in the broken windows around her.

And she ran.