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myvirginwhore [2008-02-11 09:18:23 +0000 UTC]

There is not a rushing wind that could safely place me here. There is not a rushing flood that could safely place me here. There is not a plunging fall that could safely place me here. But were I to fall into the hands of God, those could safely place me here. Or, I suppose the hands of a careful photographer could do it, too. One who wanted it to appear as though I was looking to the left and had a ponytail and a shaved head like certain Native Americans. One who wanted it to appear as though I had been feeling depressed lately and was contemplating sending my inert little form over the edge. One who wanted it to appear as though I was perfectly content to be put in odd places and photographed, rather than just broken over a skillet to get it all over with already. One who wanted it to appear as though she was God and I was merely a part of her creation inside these four digital boundaries. Do you see how close the rock on the right side is to you, and how quickly it recedes as you scan left, towards me? Do you see the deep, tall shadows that reach down to the right as they lean towards the blank, pale rock that I sit upon up in the left? Do you see the dark, gritty blemishes upon the light rocks and the curved purity of myself? I long to be plucked from my peril and placed elsewhere. Where is my savior?

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