lost
in this longing and
hanging
by a thread of you

suspended

in nothing
as summers float by
like clouds
whispering soft preoccupations in my ear
(look at the fireflies)

our time is passing into oblivion
as the clock winds through another day

three inches of corderoy on a couch cushion
shift into miles of subtle suggestion
far from an intimate past
that seems but a dream behind yesterday
(while the reality of it all
is the static that was a year ago)

and with every return of the fireflies in summer
the glow is a lifetime more vibrant
and a breath more enticing
than it was the last time i caught you

all i can think about
is the way you infiltrate and flood my thoughts always
leaking in through any crack or crevice you set your fingers upon;
the way you ran them across my back when you said goodbye.

i would drain myself of you if i could
but i would never want to
and dryness is loneliness;

it would be so dry and lonely without you.

the air is the same
driving down this same old road again
the familiarity covers me in a soft vanilla blanket
and leads me on

.sitting in this darkness is brittle.

hesitate
climb out
stand up

full harvest moon smiles at me from the sky
and pushes me on
(pavement moving beneath my feet____)
through the lot
and into your waiting arms.

solitude.
hours and hours spent standing in front of a mirror examining every inch of what, at times, feels like a curse in another light on a different day, where new daydreams and lingering desire turn blood to fear as it streams through helathy veins; all for what? for skin, strings, and lycra triangles that show off every inch of a self-concious mind and and make it vulnerable to eyes which may or may not be yours that covet what's thin and trendy, almost androgynous or emaciated like you never have been but always wanted to be. but you keep reeling it in past all the modest qualms, contstantly subconsciously conversing with yourself over it, obsessing over curves, suffocating in the social paranoia, the part of the purpose that you'd never admit unless to yourself; slipping on all the he said, she said, daily observational judgments and the weighty fear of being the subject of the negative speech that flies from lip to lip. yet, somewhere in the background of your thoughts something reminds you that this captivity is as voluntary and as temporary as you make it, and that freedom is only calories away while wishes slip down your esophagous and drown in your stomach. all of this, sliding down and in and racing back up and out again and again in a viscious cycle that noone will ever know about outside the walls of your private little brain; all of this until you master your desire- the one thing you want most...
with mouth shut and eyes wide, you push past temptation toward what's ahead; to that eternal androgynous longing that will hopefully help you achieve peace with yourself and sociability
in solitude.

i am creating a sister-blog to this one that will be a little bit different.
check it out at www.divein.blogspot.com