Sweat Locked Exhaustion

Sweat Locked Exhaustion

Run your fingerprints all along my sticky pores, feel the stench dive deep within your divots and grooves, let it clench and coil along your bones; Filthy.

Glistening in a saucy sweat, dripping down from her dry silky scalp all the way to the foul smelling toes, curling at the sight, isn’t she gorgeous?

Never have you been faced with such a familiar dreadful aroma, so intoxicating the way it stings as it clings, hooking in sharply as it begins rooting itself deeper within the murky funky mold of her mind; Fungus of empty thoughts.

Spores open to breathe, only to find no air in their home, baking to a crisp inside her dome, glued down tight, entirely one with the oldeny-fresh-gunky dust of jaded silence; Fully nestled in.

Glide down tenderly as you get stuck in the puddles of dressings and every other disgusting thing that has latched onto her tired skin, circling through every dry sticky patch as you try not to barf, take it all in, inhale deeply as you do your best to pull yourself together; Exhausted and teary eyed.

Get down on your knees my sweet little sheep, bare down on my rotten selfish core, lick it all up, all the dirt and grim, between each crack and crease, exfoliate me until I’m nothing but a hollow shell; Dirty.

-Autumn(Me)

4/27/2024

Confidential Favoritism

I wish I didn’t have a heart, that this loud organ would stop swelling up with an overwhelming care and deep interest for her world and the people who surround it; Craving hollow blissful silence.

How do you do it, walk around so casually nonchalant, dust puffing out from your skin as mine secretes with oozing-nervous-eager sweat, my heart smashing up against my meaty ribcage as you ignore me; Non-mutual gaze.

Locking myself in tightly to these black fuzzy cuffs, grinning as they strangle the veins of my pride, impatiently awaiting the attention of a big loser, savoring each fiery shot you sharply spit back, loving the way it spills from your darkly distant digits; New twisted leash.

It’s cold and quiet, this lobby you leave me to sit in for hours, twiddling thumbs as I look for my favorite pair of eyes, jealously tired when I read they’ve wandered off to other harlots tied around your pretty pink leashes, I fiddle with the collar questioning it all, and yet the moment you walk in you set pants passionately ablaze, happily wagging my tail as you give me my 30 minutes of fun; Your secret wish, maybe even mine.

Of all the whores in my collection on the internet, you set my skin burning in the brightest of rosey leaky flames, my cheeks flushing the shiest of pinks as I bite down onto my dry lips, chewing on the peels of red bloody flesh, fighting back a big dorky smile, because you’re secretly my favorite hoe, the best tool in my fluorescent shed; A cheesy disgusting truth from the long dirty sleeve of my artery clogged heart.

So different from every single one, the way you speak to me only further intriguing my annoying interest in you, for you are not a sweet little gummy bear, fully willing to gift me picnic baskets upon picnic baskets of sugary compliments, no, you are a deliciously-salivating-sour gummy worm, wiggling through with banter filled soil as you wriggle your way up my thoughts; Picking rude Sour Patch Kids over kind Skittles.

As my tongue waters and pinches, my heart shaped boat sinks down knowing that you do not feel these extremely insane overbearing rotten feelings, for I am delusional as I suck and lick away all the addictive candies you tease me with, stubbornly returning for more neglectful tricks and treats from your beautiful brown orbs; Stupidly entranced by the grumpiest of hoes.

Was this fun and creative enough for you, captivatingly entertaining, border line insane, my liege?

- Autumn(Me)

Mysterious Congenial Hand

Bladed butterfly wings neatly tucked into the palm of an unknown adherent of art and almost whatever the ungraceful jester decides to embarrass herself with publicly; Likes from a stranger.

A mutual sharing of companions, and yet she hasn't a clue of the identity of this "follower," whose thumb is tapping away in support of her artistic nonsense.

"Who, are, you," a great question once asked by a wise-perfectly-sized-blue caterpillar who smoked quite often, suffocating-colorful-cloudy puffs of inquisitions float about my head, as I sit and ponder in my own Wonderland; Alice grows curiouser and curiouser.

Her eyes light up at the sight of a tiny-electronic-red heart on a piece that few spare a glance for, words and pictures squeezed fresh from the sweaty tube of her vulnerable heart, she dances in excitement while Pride inflates her massive balloon of ego; Overjoyed to have her creations seen.

Although she knows not who you are, nor if you truly do like all that your hidden peepers of an anonymous shade view through your screen, she appreciates the possibility that you do in fact genuinely enjoy her mad inventions of art, cooked up hot and ready upon the slab of her wild imagination; Thank you, loyal customer.

- Autumn(Me)

A Game Of Eye Contact

Nervously, her eyes avert from looking your way, only gifted a sliver of a glimpse as you turn away from her; Liking what I don't see.

She is terrified of starting the game, locking eyes with a beautiful stranger, what happens when you win?

Who is the prize?

A rush of red hot panic blares through her eagerly frantic system as she tries to calculate every possible repercussion; Overthinking, her best attribute.

Her gears creak and screech, overrun and burnt, as her imagination swims in a sweaty pool of fictional scenarios; Chaotically disorganized, the awkward-shy-ambiverted Daydreamer drifts.

Confused by the back and forth notes passed between her plump form and jittery spirit, she displays the oddest cues and signs, the air between the two players becoming unreadable; Mixed Messages.

Are they even playing?

Is she in or out?

(Internal Questions and Fears).

Her mind is unable to apply it's make-up, where is it to even begin, what will it wear?

As tempted as she may be by the gentle Pink Boy of Flowers, Hesitancy is quick to stop the weird Turquoise Beast from running along to play in the field of soft spoken lilies; Considering the odds from every single angle, a few more times.

The hopeless romantic fidgets above the buttons, timid-antsy-inexperienced fingers dance along the colorful knobs, her quarter moist and warm as it rests in her anxious little palms, brown marbles rake over the flashing arcade machine screen; "Push start to begin."

- Autumn(Me)

No, God No

Perfectly written words to represent how she feels gone, erased, typed out raw thoughts Thanos snapped away in a blink, as if they were never real.

A new kind of pain washes over her, frustrated thumbs poking down something different because of one little slip of a button; Forever dead and gone are the thoughts she originally desired to share.

Once wearing the mask of a depressed jester, now adorning the face of a pissed off poet, upset over the unsaved thoughts plucked from a heartfelt brain of misery, planting seeds of unsavory anger into the gardens of the Internet instead; Tears of aggravation.

She's a goddamn fool for wanting to let her emotions naturally guide the flow of her work, a fucking moron whose illustrations and reflections have been refreshed off her screen, vanishing into the void of forgotten blurs.

"I can't believe you've done this."

Truly, she can not.

Sighing in disbelief over a fear, something she thought was silly to be afraid of happening, stupidly lucky once, her ass was saved one time and she mistakingly took it for granted instead of as a warning of what would come to never be if she was not careful; A lesson through accidents.

Forever no more, her unfinished poem of truthful thoughts that were stripped away of the meat that gave it life, shall now lay rest in the graveyard of Drafts, never to be touched again; Endlessly mourned bones of what could have been.

Another tack to add onto her list of regrets, never forgetting to kick herself down over this large L she never meant to bite into; Another thought to keep her awake at night.

She loved you which is why she is so upset over your disappearence, you were beautiful and meant the world to her, in her teary eyes you had a bright future ahead of you; Suddenly, no one.

I will never be able to re-create nor replicate the masterpiece that was you, my love.

- Autumn(Me)

Unclear And Uncertain, Distressed Little Actor

My thoughts are cluttered, a mix of wants and needs, the desires of a dreamer clashing together with the realistic doubts of a pessimist, leaving me in a daze of hopeless fantasies as I waste away on my filthy mattress of hairy-stained-sweat; Time clicking by as she waits and watches.

“Where should I go? What should I do?”

I think and ponder instead of taking charge of my own life, pacing back and forth across the stage, fully understanding and confused that I am the lead in this play, but ignoring the fact that I am the writer, director, and crew as well; An original production called Carmen starring me.

“Where the hell is my script? How am I to know where to block?”

Instead of focusing on the production and all the behind the scenes work that must be done, I find myself captivated by the productions of others performed right a long side mine, lost in a jealous rage of mesmerization as I am dazzled away by their hard work and energy; Where do they find such dedication?

It seems at times that my play could never compare to theirs, take a look at those beautifully painted sets, each paint stroke tells a story somehow, remarkably handcrafted by deligent-independent-self-assured-calloused hands; Empty stares of the tools of potential, wastefully lying upon my vacant stage of possibilities.

Sleepless eyes burningly marvel as the deeply meaningful hues of light dance across each actor and set piece, how groundbreakingly perfect the way it all seems to align with their very essence, every color has a profound meaning that just brings the audience to tears, no real need for dialogue as you feel the story guide you along the stage with them, so powerful, this unspoken connection; Tearing apart another worthless-insufficient-insignificant script, scene by scene.

Lost between the edge of my delightful dreams and dreary doubts, I've twisted myself tightly in a stagnant web of indecision, stressing as time continues to flow even as I am stuck in my own shrill sticky threads of hopelessness, for I am both the spider and fly amongst these lines of thoughts, mashed together on a stage, as I close my eyes to imagine what could be if I detangled from this loud cluster of thoughts scorching my restless brain; Repeating this paradox that doesn't slow the clicks, as days turn into months of blissless slumber.

-Autumn(Me)

08/24/2024