Insults to Lightning Strikes
She told me she hated my favorite funnyman and then asked me to fuck her again. It didn’t matter that we didn’t get along because our bodies did and what are we if not slaves to our own bodies? I could make her quake with a power that I have yet to experience anywhere else. She reacted as if a bolt of lightning from the hand of Zeus himself had just struck a tree in her front yard 6 times in one night.
That being said, her exchange-rate of insults to lightning strikes wasn’t that great on my end, in fact it was awful. But the ratio really ceased to matter as it was the pure exchange of power occurring that satisfied me more than anything. I felt power in being able to drown out her poor choice in music with the sounds of lips unlocking and moans releasing from the depths of her diaphragm like the ocean from a cave. I imagine she felt power in telling me my tastes were all bad and misguided but I forgot to ask her.
There’s something amazing about the way that social power manifests itself in the physical world, almost as if to say that everything is purely physical. Of course, the quakes and the lightning strikes and the ocean waves are all physical, but the power is too and so is the potential to feel love. It all manifests physically, completely apart from the soul and we are all slaves to it, every last one.