Meat

Can you follow a true mind stream?

I opened up the glass container to put the cookie biscuits in and I opened it up to my primal meat blend. Red overtook my eyes, soaked into the meat, a red I so intently wanted in me.
The cookies looked pale and tan in comparison, gross colors I couldn’t bother with when this red was capturing me before me. I was so drawn in my pelvis and body leaned into it, arched towards it in desires, but respectful of its own desires, held in a pose that wanted to capture it back.
Then I clawed a handful of the bright red mouthhongare into me and it took my tongue forward into it. My tongue buds literally raised out to feel it, to be in it, to be as close to into the meat as my mouth could go. I stroked it all the way across without consciousness and bit with the focus so intense the moment went slow enough to still see and feel every moment of now. Slow motion took on a new effect within me, one so true the words soaked me.
Abbey just came and spoke to me. Making me lose these words and jump out of it, losing the story, but the moment I think of even thinking of the meat I go write back in, it crawls up my skin and dips deep into my heart with quick pulses of pleasure. I feel it deep into my being. These are the feelings of a viper stretching out of the mouse. The feeling of your capture inside you.
I become so much more primal in these feelings that I think in my thoughts that eating just raw meat would literally turn me animal. Nothing in me but a fire of blood rusning into my lungs and exhaling the pulse of the soon to be
*Abbey calls out “I need music!!
“Easily and with full control of myself and capabilities of remembering being able to feel no fear or anger but simple love and control”
Me: “Oh! Icelandic music. Icelannndic music *singing* Iiiii *ayeeeieei” cee laandic, Iceldandic (wavering tones and different lengths to tones”.
*Finishes typing the above and then goes to 8tracks.”
http://8tracks.com/xunkara/green-hills-ambient-icelandic-mix
What happened to the Music?
“I’m going I’m going”.
“Wait I need classical! “Icelandic will work, it’s like classical.”
&*while writing and remembering the above “ Ainsley!!” I need you!!”
Mepresent: I’m writing!!”
“STill?! It’s taking forever!!”
“Yes! That’s my writing”
*looks back to computer and in memory sees her staring at my books (seconds ago). *in mindme* SIGH?! She wants to move my book’s. Doesn’t she?
I wrote these words so long ago…
…Do voices become classical when we don’t know the language?
Wait…did the cookies blur?
Had they literally blurred?
The cookies blurred in comparison.
Presently present and goes back to memory of meat…oh god I arched again my pelvis and chest, pelvis..then chest I leaned so deeply into that memory as I imagined that red fucking meat. Ugh…I wants it..my precious.
Once I’d put some of it in my mouth I started to rub my fingers over and across the shining organ’s of my meat. It seemed to brown before my eyes. I saddened, aware of my loss of encompassing red, and realized that I was encompassed. There had been no thought or awarness of anything but that meat until that moment.
I thought it might be the rubbing, that I’d provoked up and seeped in the worschetishere and (holy fucked I spelled that right just through feeling the word…shocking..I was going to tnot care and leave it as a funny thing for people to notice eventually and relate to the so easily typed into a misspelled word (spelling error).
Then I thought…it might be…what I’ve been typing all out now…after realizing it.
I thought it could be primal. So primal to want meat that it turned red in my desire. That I provoked out the red through my eyes and body signaling how desperately they wanted it.
I focused on wantingt the meat again, provoking out the feeling of the memory of the moments before.
*Randy and Abbey come in for distraction’s sake, throwing shit away next to me. “I just pick the two with the coolest name and get those*he said that as I was typing this but I haven’t typed out the moments “moment” (Says ready in pp) “Help remember that we have meat in the refrigerator and not the freezer “Talks aloud: Oh you could put a note on the fridge The words won’t catch up! Well! As it’s not keto I will make it for you and then *Pauses typing to respond No NO I was typing about it. In reaply to Abbey saying “I thought Ainsley would be all excited about it” The words in between were *goes to look at before words* Oh yes. Randy said there was meat in the fridge and they had to remember it.
Randy was talking about the apples when it came to picking the coolest names. And for distraction they threw stuff away and then Randy was talking about something and then came in for a knife
*has to pause again because Abbey talks about moving my books out and that I need to get them…”well not right now, but…” “I’ll get them eventually.
“You’re acting like I’m moving out to day” (types out of conversation’s order to not forget”…or…and…to notice this feeling it gives me of deep controlled pain, symbolizing regret word in my head but in actuality it is like a heavy balloon dropping down the spine of my heart. Right between my breasts and soothing and seeping down(those words grew wrong after I hit a roach..at one and hit the cord to my computer to keep it alive. the pain of it contrasted to soothing and seeping…oooh that worked this time
*steps out of room to talk to Abbey after she says “Ainsley! Ainsley! I have an idea
“What?”
Oh no never mind
“what”NEvermind she says : From Randy
*has been and is currently moving legs and body back and forth to music, sometimes getting so consumed as to stop typing and then back into the word’s memories game
“NOT the thirst monster! he comes in so many forms!! *responding to randy saying he has the thirst monster:
Nevermind she says: From Randy
Abbey *saunters in flight over* Abbey! What is it?!
*abashed and beautiful she responds as her purple coat lays in sharp lines down her sides and her being just…shines and radiates but with a bashful comfort and beauty I can’t…I can barely hold it in my memory I become so captured that I’m afraid I’ll never get out”
When you go to Marfa. I can write you on this Harrpy Potter paper
*!!!!!*
*can’t even remember response through all the bliss words I think of now *Yes, That’s awesome! Oh my god! (probably not…I trained myself out of saying that one because I don’t believe in him …kind of…I do I just hate the religion that destroyed him and doesn’t embrace that him could be an it or something higher that is still glorious and reaching and loving and has reason…but we soiled it,literally buried it and now people have such anger at him and it and her and we shattering reality, that god and beliving became a lie that ripped us and we llost it….we ..our our reality shattered around us and when we dove to pick up the pieces they scratched us open and scraped at our skin until blood fell out because Santa wasn’t real…God isn’t real…we’re broken.
Where do we turn?
What all have I not told you *remembers mid that sentence with a bright and powerful lust memory*The meat! *it sprites my mind to bliss, an aware jolt that literally sings a bliss note out my heart*
Fuck god yes..I love typing about it.
I used desire..I remembered right where I was in telling you too. It took less than the awareness of a second to know. As though that memory is so vivid I remember every moment of it and can return to any moment of it, any word of it, the word placing me right back into it. The red of the organs vividly soaking the veins of my memory.
“*Rolls neck around* *thinks of putting at the beginning of this “God please be high when you read this…then wait…they might not be able to process it and get distracted if high…”Okay…read it then get high and read it…*is that too much * *thinks of Dustin*…so easily does any form of rejection trigger his name?”
*tried to dip cookie in honey and then thought of meat to see if it was a ravenous actual need for honey or …what
*thinks of primal meat again and mind becomes sharp and aware gorsed out…I drop the biscuit and vividly hold that moement even now as it dropped, everything drawing into focus and then begging out, inside, for that meat, as my mouth watered but..not with the water of a cookie. So intense was the burst of organ need that my mouth seemed to stop watering…I could not feel it. All senses were on that one desire. That was a splitting second and I immediately came to type this…to tell you…not even thinking of that addictively tantalizing honey body need. IT is so overriden when I think of that meat it’s as though my body spits at, shnakes at the idea of cookies and honey when there is meat. Meat is all I want and need, and only for puny humans does the honey deep into the cookie, does the honehy …mmmm that meat..>I’m so absorbed I can’t fullyu word out the sentences. Sighl….so deep it sinks into me…I don’t even care about the idea of you thinking Ha! Puny we are when she can’t even spell or type otou out sentences. (goes back to misspell that after auto driving backspaces over it). I don’t care what you think. My mind scooched out that…response. To care..didn’t connect (rebound and equal and opposite of caring) Because I do feel above…lifted, and so confident..that it fills me. There is no room of liquid, not even a drop, for the ill confidence or anxiety or… (for that non confidence to come in). There is no liquid anxiety left in me or can be dripped in becausea wave of confidence pushed out the desire to give in, the desire to hide, the desire to cave and say I was inferior…anxiety…the wave of primal confidencing superiority made a giganormous waves of realit…me…I don’t….please…have this feeling with me. Be a human animal with me. Nothing …fuckmig nothing beats this feeling. In a literal real….people have abused those words too…but with every stroke of those letters into your mind just know that I mean there is nothing…a new word for it. My word for it.
Neshreen=nothing
Neshreeen…feels better (no that sounds wrong)
Infret…Groosrent. there isn’t a word for it. Because nothing is nothing.
Once you reach the word nothing is there.
It is empty.
Life is empty…that’s what it is…nothing is like this feeling because I am no longer empty. There is no nothingness.
Yet that isn’t true to what I was trying to say…not at all.
Nothing beats this feeling. Because the rest of life isn’t felt until you reach this. You don’t feel everything and thus reach a moment of the nothing. the nothing simply being any part of you (even 1%) not feeling a moment. That is the nothing space…where something turns to nothing.
Flugufrelsarinn Sigur Ró makes me want to fondle myself
*goes back to cookies and tries to want them. Still nope. Stare at them and try again but just frown and have no desire, no connection to wanting it. I almost grimace at them.
I put the lid on the honey jar, only feeling the mechanics of it, the object losing any meaning and I hear the sounds of the curved rings snagging together. *bored of this*
*(Superior to this* *thinks of running…no *remembers again* long walking stride as I go outside, taking the room, the space, then reaching outside and leaping into all fours and running  out into the night then in a tree branch of the darkness with my legs up and leaning into my food as my elbows reach out over my knees and fall down over my legs as my hands push the meat into my mouth, dripping out the blood drool from my chin* boring gone..apparenlty boring is talking about anything but meat

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