Porno for Peace

She was shaking, her thighs were tired of holding her up.

She was sweating, her back burned even in the cold and her shoulders dropped down slowly to let the salt slide down her spine.

She was dehydrated, she tried to gather her spit but it was white and hard and hit walls against her teeth.

The uppers made her wanna be around people and talk about things, music mostly or food. She could say how much she loved pizza a million times and never get bored.

But

The downers made her wanna hide and not admit she was a human, carrying a human, sucking on a human. How inhumane she thought. She was more like a commodity anyways, she thought. Like a tiny foam dinosaur someone put water on to make it grow its shape. Her make-up, her clothes, her hair, photo-shopped, cropped, edited, dipped in shine and lube and cast into the window of the internet. Full of form, encapsulated.

She untied her shoes and somewhere out there a million people watched her bend over. 

She pushed her hair behind her ear and somewhere out there two million people watched her take herself to orgasm.

She stared shyly at her phone while just a website away a thousand comments vied graphically for her attention.

Right now she looked like the bad part of town but inside their dream she was the shine of all the city lights. She lit up entire corners of the internet, she was the soft glow of a million computer screens tucked away in the dark corners of rooms everywhere for the world to see. 

She watched commerce ebb and flow with the heave and sigh of her breasts. 

The boy's eyes on the other end of the room made her light up, she watched him as she slid up and down. He half hid his face behind the microphone but she could see him thru the lights, watching. She wanted to be him, watching her. She wanted to feel him, not the way she usually felt boys but the way he felt himself, with his hands thru his own jeans. She imagined she was him and closed her eyes. She told herself it was his microphone stand inside of her, picking up the sound of her heart beating against a life of weight and wind. When she went to open her lashes she could feel a comet crashing down on her, a volcano crushing her, a million ways to die living on her skin.

The boy turned off the lights, packed up the microphones, the crew filtered out of the room and into black minivans and red mustangs. 

Now she was old again, a cold, empty dinosaur lying deflated on a leather cushion and they were a tribe of conquering warlords with no decency to consume what they had killed.

And

The world watched her dying a hundred billion times and never said a word. She was their secret pleasure to consume.

When they ate her they tore less at the flesh of each other. 

Their pleasure made her smile and after each little death she slept so good knowing she was making porno for peace. She just wished someone had stayed to talk about pizza, she had lost her appetite but wanted to hear the words.

She hummed the word pepperoni over and over again to herself until it had lost its meaning.

She was zen. 

photo I took of a penthouse pet

photo I took of a porn location

Snippets

Tiny pieces of new songs and ideas mixed with video from my phone or old videos. Recycle till we create. Still haven't found the sound I want for the new record but I'm getting close.

What The Undone Will Do

       There's a letter on your desk you've never opened, money in a drawer you've refused to count, an unheard voicemail on your phone you wont listen to and a hundred stories in your head you'd rather wash away than write down. You've been thru more then you can forget so you begin to drink or you were drunk the whole time you can't remember. You're not living you're re-living. You became quiet, you broke, you went away to find a different way back and forgot that you were gone and now you're here....

       
        Reading a 60 year old woman's poetry about her lovers, staring at the tentacles of friends, obsessing over the words on a fat mans T-shirt, holding the light against a starlets burnt out thighs. 

     You realize that by leaving things undone you were only constantly doing them, all this science is simple, you know the magic works, has never failed you and yet you won't practice it. You tell yourself everything you've ever done has ended up hurting someone so just sit still, don't move or speak, or write, or make any more monsters. Don't sing to them or they'll come back to you. Don't write songs about them or they'll never be able to be far away again....and....

        In your stillness you end up in their dreams, their thoughts, they grind you up in coffee and hunt you down with their forks in pieces of pork, they spit your name into the mouths of their lovers like you were a curse word, bite you off in their fingernails. 

         Why won't you fucking move they say and do what you have kept undone. Wash over us so we can wash you away....but 

        You only know how to move like a guillotine,  now though you've learned. You can make a drinking container out of a cut off arm, a canvas from the skin and a quill from the bone because....

         If you're gonna be a selfish, destructive, unpredictable prick, you might as well make some good art to keep you company....and

         With this thought, you begin to move again and nobody has anything good to say about what they wanted now. 

         Peace and love. 

                                            - Rafael V.