Monday, March 9, 2015

I miss the way your lips taste of my lips and my lips 
And the way your tongue feels on my teeth and between my lips and between my lips
I miss the way I taste you, purple and unrestrained, between my lips and between my lips
I miss the way I devour you with my lips and teeth and lips
Slick with sweat and eyes locked 
Between my lips and my lips
Beyond all distant stars and burning suns 
In between glittering galaxies 
Back and forth through the rolling barrel waves of time
In impossible spite of the infinite webs of fate 
With my fingers tangled in your hair on the 405
With thousands of miles and all the roads that run between
Without the slightest heed or need of reason
With the ever-present ignition of my very soul that lights under your watch
This is how...
There was no way to be proper or delicate about the way she looked at him. It was hunger, thirst, recognition, wanton desire, camaraderie and incredulity all at once. But the recognition- she couldn't place it. She couldn't stop looking at his face and trying to remember why it already lived inside her memory somehow. Half the time it stole her voice and the other half it just stole her breath. It was without a doubt the most magnetic experience of her life and even through the alcohol she looked at him and asked "what are you doing here?" And responded- "I think you keep asking the wrong question. I keep wondering, 'what can come of this'?"
Saying I miss you isn't quite enough
Saying I miss waking up to the heat of you next to me doesn't quite sum up why I don't want to get in my bed alone
Saying I miss your breath against my neck and your teeth on my skin doesn't quite do justice 
I find myself turning my head to the side and almost moaning just to remember 
How I could barely say your name because I had no breath while my body belonged to yours
How reality is so much faster and clearer and so impossible to escape underneath you
Every little death breathes life into my soul 
and I will beg for you to slay me again. 
Let's go live in a treehouse
With a rope swing over the water
We can howl at the moon with the wolves
And make love in the trees like animals
We can fish for our dinner
And brew our own drinks
And never set foot in civilization again. 
I'll sew you a loincloth 
But rarely let you wear it
And I'll tan my cheeks in the tropical light
Tie me up with vines at night 
And my mouth will wake you when you rise with the sun 
Good morning
Also don't forget that time we fell asleep on the moon and drifted too close to the sun. Don't forget how the soft golden light turned blinding so that you couldn't even see me. How the heat scalded and blistered inside your throat each time you drew breath, so that you couldn't even call out for me. Remember how the warm rays that heat the concrete in the summer turned our skin to black and singed away our hair, and how everything that was magical on the moon was mercilessly annihilated by the sun. How the smell of burning flesh inside our nostrils was our own. When you wake up whole, safe, with all your skin, deliciously alive and unsure of what your day brings, remember that it's because just before the light of the sun extinguished the light in us, I wrote us back home. 
Goodnight Darlin. Remember that time we walked on the moon? Remember how you could see the coast of California as the sun set and told me that for once you weren't jaded by the ocean, that being so far away that you could see the whole thing on the head of a pin made you grateful to know feeling of the sand between your toes. Remember how easy it was to slow dance without the weight of the world holding you down, and how your laughter didn't carry into the atmosphere, but lingered just between your mouth and mine. And how there were no state lines, and distance seemed irrelevant and everyone we loved was there, held at home by gravity as we sifted lunar dust through our fingers, and contemplated things much less significant than the universe. 
At the birth of the universe, the dawn of time- before words existed to name things and souls had yet to evolve into bodies, I knew you. And my soul has wandered around galaxies, in and out of stars, danced across the rings of Saturn, while yours kicked dust on the moon and sprinted around the Milky Way. Evolution pulled us one way, into the physical, toward survival, in caves and underground cities, mud huts, castles, cottages, mortgages and apartment complexes. I knew you when you were the court jester. You knew me when I was burned at the stake. I knew you when they dragged you away for heresy, and you watched the crusade bleed me out for blasphemy. Since the beginning, we have rebelled. We have been the odd man out. Through lifetimes and centuries and revolutions, my soul has held your hand, and yours has watched my back. As we were tortured, as we were rejected, as we were stoned, as we were crushed. And every moment in history made sense when I walked into a bar and saw..."oh, it's you." Yet ever since, I've been trying to decipher, to understand, to make it fit neatly into words I know. It doesn't. I don't understand it on a level I can describe, it simply is. Lovers, friends, mismatched souls torn from the same cosmos cloth- it may take centuries more to comprehend. But it is real, and it is compelling, and consumes sometimes too much of me. My rabid curiosity feels the need to know *What is this, what is this supposed to be, who are you to me??* . But my soul, she is quiet. She's come across you at last, and simply lights up in recognition, slips the unraveling strings of her fingers into the holes in the center of your chest and says, 'let's dance as we have always done'. 


Don't be jaded. Let it happen to you. Let it move you. Let it break you, build you, burn and create you. Let it pull you from the depths only to drown you in the light. Let it manifest you out of nothing. Let it show you to me. Your darkest. Your most useless. Your weakest and most depraved. Let it illuminate your sickness. Let it make me invincible to your heart's disease. Let it consume us both, flames licking at our heels, our skin seared black inside the fire, but the light in our eyes reflected only of one another. Hearts built entirely of scars, it burns to stretch old wounds. 

March 6, 2015

Shhhhhhh, come under here with me. Don't say a word. If we're completely silent, and you hold on to me real tight, maybe we can hide from them. They won't see us, won't hear our pounding hearts and shaking hands. Keep holding on. Stay still. I'm not sure why the fates are so angry at us right now, but I've had enough of their hurling stones at our faces and laughing when they crack our skulls. Hide with me! I'll kiss you under the covers and when we're ready, we can bolt out past them, running and laughing and shouting, middle fingers up, defying all their traps and snarls. And when we finally get away, in some dark cavern or abandoned shack, I'll lick your wounds until they're clean, you'll gently wipe the blood off of my back. We'll heal up together, hidden away, until our scars have made us beautiful and we walk amongst everyone else again. They'll watch as we go by with our heads held up. They'll whisper that we're the ones you've heard about. The lovers. The fighters. The survivors. The ones who tempted fate to crush is, and lived to tell. 

Insomnia vol, 8,793

The quiet and the dark cast a heavy net over my body again. I can't sleep beneath this weight. The vicious mouth of the black dog called anxiety spits it's hot and hungry breath upon my back. I can feel it's teeth grazing me as it snaps, the foaming, snarling, curled back lips as it gnashes and pulls against its chains. It's fed by uncertainty. It thrives on this fear of the unknown. It flashes yesterdays to paralyze and sedate me, it denies the possibility of tomorrow. It shows me everything I haven't done with a dark promise that I can't, and never will. It delights in all my failures, my shortcomings, it grows stronger when it feeds on guilt. 

March 9, 2015

All I have this morning is a restless desire for you in this bed beside me. To wake up once with your fingers stroking my skin and your breath on the back of my neck. Whatever vengeful little demon of fate decided to make that so difficult will die a horrendous bloody death the next time you're within the reach of my lips. He'll disintegrate in the wake of all consuming passion, laughter, adventures, sex, adventurous sex, and bullheaded optimism. Every time you touch me, the little bastard bleeds. Let's kill him together.