cackling into the forest. Hozier, black coffee, blacker ink, serpent around my ring finger, breeze arrives, trees dancing, i remember you calling me. i remember in the distant sounds of poetry seeping into every pore and teeming into paper and everything glows with you and i remember i remember i remember constellations of glimmering stone and stars exploding and a wild mountain horse on the seacliffs of catalan where i’ve never been, but i have been.
everywhere you are i am everywhere you are i am everywhere you are i am everywhere you are i am everywhere you are everywhere i am you are everywhere i am you are everywhere i am you are everywhere i am you are i am everywhere you are everywhere i am everywhere you are everywhere i am everywhere you are everywhere
i leaf flies to my chair – there you are [nailing] yourself to the cross of my awareness
i draw a cross of vanilla across my heart each morning and massage it into my breasts, remembering the scent of honeydew at dusk and the way i bent to my knees and you gathered me into your arms, your sweet and bitter fruit has fallen from her tree. the dress she wears is indigo moonstone and silvery threads and an amber halo
murmurs to the left. sweet water on my tongue. tension in jaw and tastebuds. pressure in soles of feet and remembering the music that plays from my phone is the same as that of the crickets. drown the neighbors’ ripple with sound that delights. beauty is protection. my dress gathers between folded legs and i pray on the taste of cinnamon serpents in milky coffee and you, somewhere in my mind, swimming toward my heavy, damp breasts, and i breathe bright grey stratus and fluffy white cumulus and pure blue a hawk flies through. i remember you never left me. i only looked elsewhere for a third of a century which, in the grand scheme, is nothing i cannot remedy with a flowered silk slip and three sticks of incense and every color my heart rests her fingers in. you curve through my breath lke thick spicy smoke and rain falls on my shoulderblades, washing any trace of doubt from the atomic structure of consciousness called I AM.
i am yours. ink spreads through a raindrop and i want to keep writing – but you urge me to the studio with cool water.
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your eyes between my thighs your lips an inch from mine whispering filth into my glistening electricity
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I’m tired of wanting you tired of waiting and waiting and waiting what’s wrong with me? For being so pretty you’d think by now I’d have figured something into existence ha the haze again the gaze again the mirror betrays again again damn I miss you tonight your fingers linger between my lips and I wish this feeling would never lift alone in the dark I imagine you’re real so one day maybe you will be here with me so embarrassing the way I dream and yet it always has been what is there to hide from?
how else will you find me but by my signature koans (moans) and signature sighs and signature silk slips and lips that can’t stop biting themselves and I slip slip slip into the mystery again
don’t you want to come with me, darling? what is this game we are playing? they say hide and seek but I feel you always.
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I will fill myself with the feeling of you until you arrive in my embrace and then I will never let go of you ever. I will love you forever.
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What do I WANT to fill the tension with?
This is the erotic game I get to choose the inputs
Being here on earth is being suspended floating tethered between realms
I don’t have to resist Don’t have to fill the tension with more tension I can fill it with openness and pleasure and juicy delicious gushing aliveness
It’s okay to let go of the fight It’s okay to love. To smile. To be here swimming in it
Let go of control and it’s all coming
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The best part about not being with a man is that I realize all of the feeling is coming from my own erotic nature. My imagination. My desire. My art. My atmosphere. My aesthetic. My beauty. My worship. My prayer. My devotion. My goddess.
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The less time I spend on social media getting subtle validation and breadcrumbs of attention, the more deeply attuned I am to my creative pulse, my erotic pulse, my desire, my senses, my able to feel things into being.
