RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Thursday, July 14

SONG OF THE DAY: You Need Help

So I had one of those lucid dreams the other night where it feels too real to just be a dream, but I guess it was a dream? Although perhaps it’s the not-so-distant future, I’m not sure. I was living in some sort of collective resistance group near Grafton, West Virginia, though the word “resistance” makes it seem dumb. Language is very limiting at times, to be honest. But we were working to further undermine an outside government’s influence over us, as a large chunk of Appalachia had apparently become an autonomous zone, occupied by antifascists, but not really run by anybody so much as sharing resources. But apparently, whoever was still in charge of the actual American government had developed cyborg technology, and were sending women cyborgs in to intercept plans and locations and all that type shit. The cyborgs had flesh-like features though, but were still built with patriarchal philosophical foundations, so they were quieter – expected to be seen not heard, so that they could hear more. I didn’t know all this at the beginning of the dream, but was informed of all this, because the people I was living amongst had way more detailed information than me. I was just a guy living there, trying to pitch in and not be useless. But apparently these cyborg women drone spies, for the most part, felt entirely real in all ways, and it was nearly impossible to figure out they were drone cyborg robots sent in by the authoritative United States of America, looking to squash our regional autonomy. And I’m not really sure how somebody figured this out (maybe I’ll find out in later dreams if I’m so lucky to return), but the one way you could tell they were drones was through giving them oral sex, concentrating on the clit, because they were programmed to simulate excitement, but the clitoris, when stimulated in these cyborgs, became dangerously hot – like burning hot put blisters on your tongue warmed up. So a defensive trick developed by the resistance was to get into a sexual situation with these potential cyborgs, start giving them oral sex, and find out if they were real or not. The cyborgs, again due to patriarchal philosophies of those who constructed them, was that they were willing participants in sexual situations if certain criteria were met. There was a relatively new woman in the camp that I was supposed to perform oral sex on, and find out if she was real or not.
My dream actually began with me eating her out, and all the rest came to me as memories of things that had been explained to me, mostly involving this little dude named BB (or Beebee, or B.B. but just two “b” sounds… I never saw his name written out, just spoken) who had two little splotchy and poorly done bumblebees tattooed on his left cheek, like teardrops kinda dripping from his hazelnut eye. But I was performing oral sex on this woman, who was very attractive to be honest, and her clit was warming up, nothing abnormal yet, but it felt like it was warming up to where it was going to be abnormal and I’d be certain she was a cyborg. But what fucked me up in the moment was remembering the conversations with BB where if that happened, I was to kill her. This seemed really fucked up to me, to go from oral sex with this sexy woman, to choking her to death, as I was told to do. I didn’t like it, even if she wasn’t an actual woman but a cyborg, even if the oral sex clitoris stimulation test proved this. To me, as a human, it was going to feel like I was having sex with a woman – who for all intents and purposes appeared and felt human to me – and then shifting into killing her. I couldn’t do it. But her clit was definitely heating up like a stove element, so I quit, and moved into regular sexual intercourse. It was nice.
Afterwards, BB was asking me, and I explained that it felt like she was warming up like he said a cyborg was, but I wasn’t comfortable with killing her, so I didn’t go through with it. “What? Fuck man. They’re programmed for sexual loyalty so there’s like a three month bleed out time before we can try it again with someone else with her. That’s really bad op sec.” He was really pissed at me, which also felt weird as fuck, and I was just standing there (actually sleeping here, seeing myself standing there), feeling horribly conflicted, because I didn’t want to choke somebody I was just having sex with, even if they were a fascist cyborg drone spy creation of some sort. And I didn’t really like being in this alleged autonomous zone getting yelled at by this weird little dude mad that I didn’t choke a cyborg I was fucking to death. But I also got his point, because it was bad op sec. I remember standing there in the dream, with BB kinda going off on me in a subtle but aggressive way – not really passive but not overtly aggro either – and I was thinking to myself about all the abandoned coal cars outside of Grafton still, and how I just wanted to go draw on the coal cars maybe if I could. But BB was chastising me in long form about not killing a likely cyborg, who I had just had sex with. So I was feeling fucked up that I really enjoyed sex with a cyborg too, but also didn’t wanna fuck her again because she had to have been a cyborg, and if I fucked her again (which is what BB was trying to convince me to do, to avoid the sexual loyalty programming bleed out time), I’d have to kill her. It was all really fucked up, and I woke up thinking that the future is going to be really fucked up, just not in the ways we automatically assume.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

When I see your long prose, I know I'm gonna get some mind fuck, but this was fuckiest of all. Dreams are weird. You are weird. Its all good though.