feel my body/a different way
09-27-2016, 04:41 PM
| Poser is stoned when he sets foot within the crumbling temple. There's something filling his head up, something filling his body up, and it feels strange. He can't feel it and he can't fight it. Therethe's no use bothering fighting it, but he's craving. Oh how he's craving the contact of another being. It's been so long. It's been too long, and here he is crying out into the abyss, longing for it. Traipsing forward, an altar that's a vestige for a god whose name he doesn't know. There are names, so many names, of so many gods that he doesn't know how to pray to. There are the gods he does know. There are the gods that he has touched and held and met, and they are more real than anything. Oh lord in those days they were so real and Poser revered them. And oh it's that amber eyed god among men that he sees when he collapses forth. A mass of long limbs and thin body, Poser can see him. "Jet, I knew it'd be a house to worship you." There's an athletic lab, leggy, tall, handsome. The dog dances about as Poser lies upon the stone and stares up. He watches as the creature moves above the ground, sometimes a breath, sometimes feet. Leaping and dipping, diving and rolling. Poser is an offering splayed on the cracked altar, ready to let them take him away. Oh how he would let them take him away for one more touch. Still, he can see his first love well and whole and that's the greatest gift of all. But he's still starving for touch. Moaning for it. Poser is breathless as he speaks to the specter, but he is comfortable. "You're beautiful as ever, know that? Always so, so beautiful." Hell, who even knows if he's speaking English or Russian. Poser doesn't, but to anyone listening the words are in the Cyrillic language. Flattering a creature that isn't there, begging for some form of intimate contact. Longing, as ever, for intimacy. Poser always has been and always will be. poser breathy way of saying my name |
![[Image: VVdK7m3.png]](http://i.imgur.com/VVdK7m3.png)