Behind Everything, There is History

Behind the mirror is a window. Behind the window is a tree. Behind the tree is a yard. There is a dog, one in heat, chained to a tree behind the first. The bitch is howling. In front of the mirror is a bed. In front of the bed is a man. In front of the man is a camera. There is an out of focus dick in the view screen, semi-erect. The dick is getting harder. On the bed is a woman. On the woman is heat sensitive oil. On wrists and ankles are silken ties. The bitch is howling.

                                                    ***********

Action:
Lick
Suck
Fuck
Lick
Suck
Fuck
Cut.

                                                    ***********

In the yard the dog thinks in terms of release: Get me off this tree. Get me off this leash. Get me off. In terms of hunger: My stomach burns. My blood burns. My eggs. In terms of animal. I'll growl. I'll snap and bite. Howl. In terms of captive: Why'd I believe in you? Why can't you make it stop? Why won't you.

                                                    ***********

Turning off the recorder, the man thinks in terms of footage: Never done before. Best yet. Unique. In terms of satisfaction: My cum is spewed. My seed spilled. My release. In terms of glory: I am good. I am man. God. In terms of captor: How'd you like that? How's it feel to be trapped? How did you know.

                                                    ***********

Dressed in see-through film and easy access, the woman thinks in terms of blood: Untie me. Undo these bonds. Release me. In terms of complete: My extremities are numb. My insides throb. My finish. In terms of carrier: I am mother. I am woman. Creator. In terms of captive: Why'd I believe in you? Why can't you make it stop? Why won't you.

                                                    ***********

Rewind:
Only
White
Noise
Only
White
Noise
Fade to Black.

                                                    ************

Behind the woman is a door. Behind the door is a hallway. Behind the hallway is a kitchen. There is a meal, forgotten. In front of the man is a blank screen. In front of the blank screen is a photograph. In front of the photograph is a piece of glass. The picture is frozen, in time. On the lawn is a stranger. On the bitch is a stranger. On the stranger is the call of instinct. They are stuck, infinitely, and howling.

You can visit Tomi at www.tomishaw.com.