A thought rolls through my head as I sip the morning wine,
nothing outstanding happens without incident.
If she was there for the taking we could spend time ignoring the world. Days spent getting drunk, making art and fornicating shamelessly; as hedonistic as a Bohemians life could be. For now I live in the dream. Floating through each day as the view from the top of a staircase. I could tell you how I became this way but you wouldn't understand, no sane person living a life inclusive of expectation could. I suppose it would be best to start and the beginning, pass the middle and come to the end, but that would be expected… wouldn't it?
In purpose the mind is a gateway to life beyond death, capable of contemplating everything and nothing, the infinite universe contained inside a living being. Magic. Practical application leans towards self obsession and the nagging want disguised as need. I am no different in these matters.
Lost in the thought of her smell I've missed my stop. Seven staircases will lead me upward to the ground, I feel the weight of her thick, beautiful hair with every step.I have turned her into the yearning, something pure, something not me.
I know that I will take her. I will kiss her short of breath and arch her back. She will fall into my arms and show me what her body needs. I will know beyond her smell, her taste, she will give me her fear and I will add it to my own.
As I join the procession my thoughts travel inward. Why have I allowed myself to become this? I am a wretch, A still breath on the wind. Would the world at large ever remember the kindness in me as I twist the knife into an open wound? The faces around me seem content, no… resigned to the contradictions they support. I should feel liberated, I don't, for after all the willingness I've shown to free my mind of the created concept of successful living I am still standing in line.
