Low Charity
It is a surprise to be desired. I had never understood or expected beauty, so, now I have blossomed sleek and excessive like an orchid’s corolla, I take what others give to me and ruined men fall from my hands like ripe fruit to lie rotting on the ground. Sex is ceremony, a ritual of feigned innocence, and earnestness. I clear myself with water, rub oil into skin. Quiet eyes watch men twist and struggle at the sight of limbs to crack open and consume, so slim and smooth. Pleasure is radical, a rebellion. They snatch for caresses like beggars rubbing buttercups into open wounds to make them blister. They are offered outlines ‘til I am teased open like tulips at sunrise. Savour that pain. Understand that I am willing to suffer for you, however briefly. Lines in italics are paraphrased from Emilé Zola’s ‘Nana’
https://soundcloud.com/seven-voices/sonic-portrait-of-aguadulce
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