Tuesday, August 21, 2007


deciding. if itís time. if thereís enough space between. if there are open ended answers to what this is. what becomes one hundred? what skin touches down? what wills collide to bring this back to life?

i have overheard enough in this life. i cannot claim ignorance. i cannot fathom release such as this again. your skin is too fair. your touch too heavy. your eyes too brilliant to let go again.

i set him free. i release myself into ether. i suck the airs of absence hiding between our palms. i can sense every movement. every sigh. every thought that comes within 10 feet of me. and you are all about it. your skin. your face. your fingers. tracing the lines of want and desire ever so slightly, lingering, drowning. sacrificing not a thing. no more. no longer. absence cannot control me.

i need rilke. i need bukowski. i need baudelaire. and nin. and miller. i need a song. a stance. a word action-deed-misdemeanor. i need you. i need you again.



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