my fingers are cold and i shiver as i sit here and my heart burns inside my chest. i am sitting here with seeds in my hand and a lost horizon behind me. working my past memories through each pore exhausts my senses and i remember what you did for me. it was a girl emerging from a storm who sat on the cushions as your long legs outstretched around me. i remember over the wires you told me to do nothing until i got there, you told me what you had in store for me. that was purity you gave me, when you smiled into my eyes and the years i had spent struggling just fell off of me like an old skin. i ran away from you then to you then and while i no longer run to you, i remember the words that brought me back to life. you never solved me and i never solved you but you breathed new life into me at times i so very much needed it, in all your brokenness and in all my dreams of someday. i think of you rarely anymore but when i do it is of wide open spaces and finding myself wrapped up in a circle of you and i, and of dark rainy nights hanging black and white photographs and drinking too much wine as our minds tangled around each other. you told me about what i did for your mind when i sent you hannah miet poetry and my own words, then you kissed me softly as we sat on the porch and you asked me where this was going. some days you loved me and others you stood in the fields, miles away could have been oceans and in your great height you turned out quite small and a shadow of the man i knew that night we walked back to my house. i wanted to give you everything backwards and forwards. parts of me hate how you so easily unwrapped me, made me vulnerable and soft and sweet and oh how you made me giggle and sigh…there was something unexpected in you and here i was, in the middle of a field, wondering how i ever got to this place with you.
and like that, i turned the lights out on it all. three strikes and i said goodbye to all of the philosophy. Closer to God
You don’t creep into my dreams like other men do. You appear like a phantom on an ordinary night and wrap words around my eyes like a blindfold. You overtake me.
I’m lying in some relative state of peace, worrying about bills or Freud, or some piece of my personal history that becomes irrelevant when your words appear on my screen, beckoning me out of bed.
I am unraveled by the thought of you. Naked at my core and suddenly hollow, waiting for you to defile me.
I recently told you that I am done with definitions. Dominant, innocent, bisexual, whatever. As you put it, we are only sexual. We breathe this way. It drives our good and our bad, our every silent scream. Every vibration is sensual.
I tell you that sometimes, I am the master of everything. The director. Sometimes I’m the voyeur. I can follow an energy, or guide it. I am not one person in the darkness.
With you, I am animal. I am only sex and craving. I scratch my nails down your back and stab them into myself all at once. I feel like a prisoner in your church. Like you take pleasure in corrupting me, fucking me everywhere. In my words and at my core. My reins are gone. My routine is gone. You make me feel like a student of your body. Of sickness.
I tell you I can’t see you tonight. I am resting for work, recovering from ailments. You torment me. You tell me you hope that my every thought is tainted by your cock and that I taste you inside my mind.
I try to sleep and drink coffee and write and you are fucking me into a wired oblivion of brain waves.
I hate you. Really, I do. But I know that I also harrow your thoughts. There is comfort in that as you tear at the seams of my mind.
I think of you knowing me younger, purer, not sure what I wanted from my body. The image that lures you in and haunts you. The image you wish to darken while you fuck me. But that’s not what holds you here, or what makes you beg. Instead, I hold you at the tip of my tongue with the poison I hadn’t discovered back then, that I only thought about in the silence, when I imagined you in the dark.
I like to think of you watching me then. Ashamed of wanting something so small and pure. Or is it that you saw the darkness? That you wanted to enter it, pervade it, sink into it so deep that neither of us would ever return to the torment of daylight?
I’ll never know. But I know I hold you now and I’m waiting to see you again. I dream you will kidnap me. That we suck the humanness from each other and be beasts and flesh.