,, In all disorder, a secret order. — Carl Jung

miss/mood

“Ma’am, I–”

“Oh, no I couldn’t!” She cuts me off, sliding closer to me on the couch. Growling,
“Please,,” Saying, “,you must
call me Miss.” A pause, then a smile,, but I can’t see any teeth.

Dread barrels through my heart like a flock of wild, vicious vultures caw cawing, saying, scratching, that nothing will stop this, not sedation or holy water. I think about screaming but the phantasy fades
right when I was going to so instead I gasp. “Miss, I can’t breathe!” //Struck by the
sensation of drowning.

That’s when she kisses me, & I can’t figure out why. Her tongue flicks around mine in time to rhythm’s seduction. //She tastes like anticipation & when I make a surprised little noise

she

grabs me by the base of my skull, taking the opportunity
to snake that wicked tongue through the space between my teeth.

“No, please Miss–” I pull away.
“No. Call me ma’am.” It demands, keeping me close with soft, wandering hands.
“Why??” //// So she says, ,,
“Oh baby, I’m nothing you can kill, mend or befriend.
So lay back now & don’t try to understand.”

Wink ~

!!! // I’m
brought to the height of Everest. Past,

a rocketeer took off towards the stars!
With
only the kiss of
Curiosity leading me

towards a
vanishing point

on the edge of
eternity,, &

where “we” are.

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