When Demons Are Redeemed: The Dominant's Muse

Fifty-Seven - Soft Curls' Continuing Video Obsession

FIFTY-SEVEN

Soft Curls’ Continuing Video Obsession           

Words, words, words. Running on and on, and so, weighing down sentences by  making them too long, by not knowing when to separate and to stand in their own separate units, while remaining unified as one battalion, in order to offer up a stronger fight in an oxygen-rich way, rather than in a breathless one, which is a flaw that hinders flow. Negates it, even. Takes away grace, polish. And meaning.

Words, words, words. With pauses, absent, between too many ideas crammed into one serpentine sentence, adding to the negative feel.

Words, words, words. With transitions between those ideas, absent, which adds to the jerking of the mind, as it seeks to understand its way through those unintended idea leaps, which exist when bridges aren’t built between them.

And so, all in all, words, words, words that therefore bump into each other, affecting meaning, confusing it at this twist or turn, which is not, however, a surprising occurrence, due to these composers’ lack of mastery of the technical of this art, but not, however, due to a lack, in any way, of depth, Catherine finds herself considering, eyes closed still, with her breathing, free, but her mind, tangled up still, due to the numerous attacks she suffered as she hurriedly walked by so many women seeking to have a voice.

And I, currently without the power to remedy every bump, to reposition every misplaced word, to correct every misused preposition, to add every necessary comma for the sake of breath and clarity, to make every agreement between verb tenses, and to establish every transition, which often only necessitates but one little word, but which makes such a difference, Catherine then registers within herself, rather than giving in to what is happening, and to what, all in all, could be enough to drive her crazy, in her present, distorted state.

However, since she is now at least able to breathe freely, she heartens herself. It really isn’t that bad, she therefore decides, once again consciously keeping harshness at bay, despite her present discomfort, among the women, because of the women. Her continuing reluctance about looking into Soft Curls’ eyes then allows more eyes to find hers.

“Why oh why should women be upset at men in the world?” Catherine therefore hears, from a most unhappy non-refundable, one most definitely on the attack. “Could it be that, every day, women are not only treated like objects for play, but that, in so many other ways that never make the news unless a woman comes forward and unless news editors of papers and news networks aren’t sexist, they are treated so awfully as well?

Case in point: a man drugged his wife every night for years, and violated her while she was passed out.

Okay, so, in the first place, he gave her medication that she could’ve reacted badly to, or that could’ve reacted badly with others she was taking, or that she could’ve become dependent on, which I don’t know if she did, and he just didn’t care what it did to her. When she spoke to her doctor,  she of course didn’t know to add that drug to the list, and when she wasn’t feeling well, she couldn’t tell the doctor about this drug. So, that right there alone is assault, because something was physically done to someone’s body against their will.

In the second place, how much of an object was that wife to that husband, since, when she said no, he said: too bad, I own your body, and it’s mine to play with, to get satisfaction from.

She didn’t want to get pregnant, he said: too bad, you’re my baby-machine and I’ll make you make my merchandise for me. I own you.

She didn’t want his diseases, and he said: too bad, I’m giving them to you, because if I suffer, you suffer. I own you.