MUSINGS OF A TROUBLED MIND

I was told they were pretty and there for me. Of course I am told many things and after doing what I do I usually find that lies abound when people know what I’m there fore. I think if you’re them it’s just really hard to give it up, after all it’s everything they have and everything they ever will have. It all stops when I arrive, it all comes to an end and even though they may have thought about it, imagined it even fantasized about it, when it’s there, in your face; it’s difficult.
Afterward I have to sit and consume something that may not be good for me but hey who gives a fuck after what I have just done. Certainly not them, not the done’ees.
Pretty? Yea very. Sexy, uh-huh too much so perhaps but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all.
These are the very same ones that were thrown into the volcanoes all those many years ago. The ones that lay down on the Mayan altars or stood in unbearable heat tied to stakes in the Coliseum. That’s their role over and over again life after life they were born to play that role and then do.
What of me, yes of course I am the other one, the one who plays the beast to their beauty. Sometimes things don’t always go the way they are supposed too. Sometimes things get crazy, loud and then confusion reigns. Usually only for a brief moment however, I’m usually very good at gaining control over chaos.
When they know but don’t want to believe, when they tremble and sweat and move in that rhythmic way with quick sharp little breaths that give away their pleasures. When everything heats up and their faces flush and their bodies burn with desire to selfishly squeeze out every last drop that can be had for that price, that’s when it really gets interesting; ah yes; that’s the time I live for, the moments I crave.
Can it be any different? Can there possibly be another way? I have given this question thought only briefly. But if I were to ponder more seriously I would have to go into that whole “other” thing and as you can guess, that is just not going to happen. In fact it can’t happen not now, not ever. At least not under the current contract. Now if I were to say, renegotiate; well then that would be an entirely different matter indeed. But I ask you in all honesty who is going to do that!
The red dot, the small cross at a distance, the sheen of hammered steel the things that go bump in the night. Can they really not see it, are they really blind to it or is it their egos, their arrogance that immobilizes them for that split second, that ever so tiny slice of time that gives me entrance through a gate, which I could never hope to gain access by any other means.
Maybe it’s just so awesome a thing that when it does happen they cannot do anything else except stand there mesmerized by the simplicity and the totality of the whole thing. Or, maybe it’s something they already know, maybe in those last seconds the story they read in the book of life before coming through the rye suddenly comes rushing back to them, and then they know.
Maybe.