n: vb: the spice of imagination
I’m tired. I’m tired and I’m sleeping. I wake because I’m thirsty, so I do something about it. I go back to sleep and I wake for a phonecall. I wake to my lovers voice, his beautiful voice. I hang up the phone. I look up and see blue sky and daylight. I hang up the phone and find lipstick on the spout of my teapot.
This will go up as an mp3 later, I think. Yes.
Standing with you can feel like movement, like we’re rushing at a thousand running paces with our feet still. It’s distracting, who is the innocent when we’re both lions tearing the throats of our laughter out with sharp teeth? Kissed and tell me, kissed and snakes writhing, desert storm moments of key note ivory playing our song with long nailed fingers. Stone was never so soft before. In the dark we have light because every star wants to sing for us, every shining globe of fire wants to say our names. Casually we accept this, nodding our heads and taking hands before running. This is like sins don’t count, this is like guilt is something to eat off silver plates and discard like missing you. who said I need you first? This is one more year now I’m here to see it, half a year is coming up. Peaks, valleys, a scrape the sky conquering of bedpost notch proportions but better, but lucent. I’d like to think this is special. I’d like to think this is it. Speculation is this is more than I expected, this is stretching hands toward the moon in ways I never have before.
Thank you for letting imagination thrive. You caught me hook in heart. Thank you for allowing me the silk of your hair. You took me for a spirit guide. Thank you for allowing the burn of your eyes. You hypnotize genes into being. Thank you for allowing you to see me right.
Like children, we made a nest on the floor in blankets. He’s was asleep and I typing, hoping the clatter of the keys wouldn’t distract him into consciousness. I wished I too were asleep, but I was working instead, watching the chat clip past a line at a time. I had to put aside my craving, sublimate it, and pay a modicum of attention.
After it was too late, he had to go. Another hemisphere was calling, t-minus candy after running to cripple my leg into limping. I’m used to it, I can take stairs faster on a cane then anyone I know. Desire smells like another place right now, like a drawing room with sunlight in, like walls with colours running down. I wrote once that I felt like taking my blood and throwing it at the sky to stick and I have a bit of that tonight. Let the vivid hues take me, let the drumroll begin. He was a cupped hand full of water with the light of fireflies shining through my fingers. On and over again, the weight of flesh catches my breath in little ways. His hand on mine. My hand on his. It’s sun flashing off water, it’s the flight of a predator bird above me, that scratchy snap as the span completely unfolds. We could be a landscape, we could be minds unfolded into poetry.
It’s Matthew‘s birthday today.
Indie Tits is sincerely the best new webcomic I’ve read recently.
Take me, my dear, to a place (check coats at the door) airport pretty. I fear your breath is what keeps me breathing. My soul changed hands, I’m not. I noticed in time to find where it went. Skin deep is all the knife needs, this guilty pleasure knot crawling inside of me. All I need is something you shouldn’t consider giving. I’m an animal that requires someone to hold this pose with me, dance a little in the middle of the floor. I’m addicted to the paraesthesia you provide in my daily life, in my smiling against your breast, forehead resting underneath your chin.