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Soft thighs and addictions. Burning in my chest.
Thrill of foreign desire. Disaster and fear. Fluttering sense of
impending desire. Scent of impending doom. Focused on flesh. Anatomy
of the dead, deceased and mummified. Muscles and bones. Light skin
of fear. Eyes the windows through which I see. Movement of earth, movement of flesh, movement of creaking bones,like masts of ancient ships. A faraway disaster. I germinate my fear. Sounds below the surface. Skin below the sound. Silent throb. Gagged body of momentum. Heal the rift and feel the warmth of skin. A
toxin inside, injected by throb and hum. Furtive movements. Furtive
knowledge. Sound of silent desire and disaster. Rocks grind. Sound of sliding weight. Bones grind. Silent scent of weight. Teeth grit. Lava flows together with the thaw. Stitched from fabric. Soul trapped within a furnace. Heart that squeezes lava. Heart burns, trapped in hollows of ribs. Sever out, settle in. Fall into the presence of the known. Silent distance. Never known. Dimensions of living light. Time of sliding, time of taking breath. Movement hindered, empty cave. Twisted strand alone in the unknown.
Body
speaks in silent words. Silence into time. Cord stretching from
lonely silence. Wind you breathe my name.
The locus of desire.
Tongue feeling for the meat of
my desire. I love the words for desire: appetite, ardor, craze,
fervor, frenzy, greed, hunger, itch, longing, lust, mania, need,
passion, rapture, ravenous, thirst, urge, yearning.
A dream I had many years ago. Plateau with ferns as large as trees. Sway of scented breezes. Their small brown bodies, and hair that's black with grease. My feet sink into sand. My body is full, large and lush. Gorgeous with desire. Strong and fine, my muscles ripple under flesh. I love a small man. Maori, face heavily tattooed with moko. Lines delineate face, nose, chin, forehead and cheeks. I want, need, love to taste his striated skin. My skin stretches out to touch him. I vibrate when he's near. Space within a cave. Shattered sense of self. Throb in the midst of my chest. Settled sand, tilts to nevermore. Mirror. Rhythm. Solid, rounded flesh. Trace movement under skin. Muscles move, shift, slide. Never-known landscape. I never touch my arms. Sense of sliding. Sense of sitting still. Shifting skin. Shapes hold fast, silent underneath. Hidden sounds of throb. Sense of unsettling stillness. A need for keeping time. Sentience, silence, the sound it makes on my tongue. The sum of all the senses within secrets of the skin. A tone, a tune,a limit never met, a limit never seen. A series of songs. Scent is spent in memory.
What if I learned more about basic anatomy? About energy? Is it possible to actually SEE energy? To see how it works and moves and exactly where it flows in the body? Can I learn, really organically, about how the muscles, joints and tendons work, and how they interact with energy. Is there a series of overlays, or can I create one?
After being at Bill's for two days, my fingers have completely healed. What does that mean? When my friends from down here talk to me up there on the phone they always say I sound so relaxed. Why DO I hurt myself? My fingers? To suppress my body? To punish it? Why can't I nurture my body and cherish it, instead of abusing it. I owe my body a debt of honor and respect.
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