Of course, I know that as soon as something happens to me I could never be that cocky — That which does not kill me only makes me curl up and shrink into myself don't hurt me don't hurt me
The evening's light was odd, almost eerie. Calm. As I walked it began to snow, sparsely at first, gradually thicker. Fat flakes. My anger faded, cooled (by the snow, I imagined — the flakes steaming, melting against my skin...). I felt conspicuous in my pancake makeup and rubbed it off on my sleeve. It made a mess of my coat but I didn't care. I pulled my hair loose and let it fall over my face; concealment. All in black, I turned myself invisible, slipped unseen through the orange-blue air, a shadow in the falling snow.
Turning myself invisible: Don't think it was fear — it was more a desire to be faceless, identity-less...losing myself; to be but a wandering soul, a beingless gibbet ghost spectre alone on the streets in the snow...something more (and less) than a frail female human being...
The snow didn't last long — long enough to dust everything with a thin coat of white. It was very quiet; snow muffled stillness.
I was almost home but didn't particularly feel like leaving the streets, leaving this...space/time...climbing the several floors to my apartment, detaching myself from this earth...I slipped into the park at the end of my street, a narrow rectangle between buildings enclosed by a high, chain-link fence. Who knows why it's fenced so securely. All that's in it are a few benches, a couple trees, some jungle-gym/playground equipment. Maybe it's supposed to be locked at night so people don't have sex or shoot up in there or something.
The gate was unlatched tonight, though, and I just pushed through, slipped to the shadowed far corner, perched on the back of a snow-covered bench, safe behind the chain-link, safe in a bubble of silence, stillness. The snow thickened and blurred the lines of the jungle-gym, softened it — made it look unstable, as if it would bend under your weight if you were to climb on it. A tree arched its branches above my head, letting loose siftings of snow, now and then, when the wind stirred the boughs.
I'm not sure when I noticed them: When they materialized out of the chain-link fence. The metal strands binding, congealing into flesh and bone — then separating |distinction| stepping out into the snow, onto the earth. Converging, congealing upon me. I didn't, couldn't move, frozen, and they moved so infinitesimally it was impossible to see them doing so but closer they came nevertheless and silently in the post-snow stillness. Four of them, closing in on either side, two women/two men, I decided, all, like me, next to invisible in black cat burglar clothing, shapes dark against the snow but black (invisible) against the air, as if dissolving into insubstantiality, torso-less, headless, armless, handless...but when they reached out, touched me, bare hands, there was substance, solidity, sensation, feeling...I was frozen as four pairs of hands, forty fingers feathered across me, slipping within the folds of my jacket and peeling it off, touching me through the thin fabric of my leotard, blades in their fingertips and the fabric splits peels back like skin the skin of an overripe fruit half rotten |putrescent| exposes my body my nakedness my flesh exposed to the chill air goosebumping shivering as the hands clasp grip lift me and lay me down in the snow icy against bare skin
the hiss of zippers flash of organs phalluses and the two women hold me down pour whisper soothing scathing sweet nothings into my ears as one of the men kneels between my legs and enters
the snow is melting beneath me the heat of my body my pain as the man thrusts hard and the women's manacle hands clamp pin me down I breath pepper spray in his face and he weeps stinging hot tears across my skin I taste the spice on their lips as the women kiss me the spice and hands
rolling
rolling
repositioning
being repositioned
turned over now on top of the man his penis hard and burning inside me the second lubricates my anus with snow the cold melting and sodomizes me the two shafts touching through membranes the two penises merging into one and my hands clamped between the women's legs my hands swallowed by their vaginas eating me up to my elbows my shoulders engulfing me as the penises grow inside me like a tumor like a monster like a child consuming engulfing
until
dissolving absolving I am both cunt(s) and cock(s) assuming subsuming both the two women/two men into one/two organ(s) fucking myself into the snow melting it me [them] into the ground into the earth soiling ourselves ourself our me
MY
I
SELF
*
The red answering machine light is flashing frantically as I stand in the dark hallway kicking off my shoes. I shrug off my jacket and hang it on the closet doorknob. Pad the length of the hall. Three messages. I hit the call display button. Last number to have called is Angela's. Bet all three are from her. I erase all the messages without listening to them. She'll probably chew me out at work on Monday. I have a quick shower and go to bed.
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