scorpio venus
November 29, 2024
November means the end of October, and I never feel I’ve done enough to savor the darkness, even though the entire month carries with it the energy of Scorpio: death, rebirth, transformation, intuition.
My intuition has fallen ill.
I’m depressed, and not in the usual sexy fashion. I wonder if marriage will ever not depress me. At least when I’m alone I’m able to fantasize about enacting some sexual chaos that will deliver me from the discomfort of stillness. Now these fantasies make me guilty. Not that I even like actual sex much—it feels more like routine maintenance for me. Being unmarried is torment also; I’m a herd animal and need my body to be held or the chaos is too great, even for a chaos slut like me.
I wish sex could satiate whatever vacuous urge I have always suffered. But coming in contact with a human body is often underwhelming for me and steals me from the excitement of my desires. Never a proper cut. I’d rather get naked and roll in wet earth or invigorate myself with fear. But nothing scares me, and the earth is dry in the desert, apart from the lakes and hot springs. Hard to find nature in which to disrobe and perform spiritual exorcisms. In the city most land is too heavily trafficked.
On Thursday I took Momo to the top of my favorite hill and walked along the golf course in the dark. I felt more spooked than usual—perhaps because it was Hallow’s Eve or because of the New Moon syncing with my blood cycle. But I was flushed, breathing heavily, and seeing shapes and colors move across the darkness. Kind of a sexual experience in some physical ways. I could return there more often, but it comes at the cost of remembering my home being taken from me and the people who still live there. The people who experimented on my body and claim to be haunted by my absence. I used to go through the back gate every night. I wasn’t nervous at all then, but always gin drunk.
I need a purge, a God to enact judgment now, to chemically burn the need toward destruction from my body. Or maybe a dominatrix to stomp out my horrible impulses, or a bird to peck at them like worms. I’m a fat little worm myself.
