� | click here for flickr! 2002-01-20 dog shit when held in each hand - i glance. right to left....stay somewhere in the middle going nowhere. leaned in a little. leaned back a little. touched. pulled back. having had a taste, i just wanted to test my reaction. i care less than i project. senses acute. lately. found myself hoofing it. nose up at the bus. walking through tangled cement and occasionally gleefully 4-year-old stomping on the sidewalk weeds. for a long time i wanted him to drown too. i don't want anything right now. i pulled off my top. for bed. and i caught the smell of me. skin and sweat and chemical enhancement. and the residual bar smoke and a slight beeriness. and i buried my face in my sweater. self-lust. tangy.warm.sweet in a room of warm bodies . earlier. drums and funk in my bones. funk in my panties. in my head. dancing and hugging and that feeling of core and companionship and completely all alone all balanced out like a la mode. i want to smell everyone. girl gave me the best compliment i've had in awhile. not the kind that inflates the ego. the kind that reminds you and you write it down so you don't forget who you are to other people. who it is you project. i forget who i am every three days. i make plans to rewrite my pathways. but i remain straight and narrow true. computational messiness. i think i projected a falsehood the other night. i was just rectifying a having-tasted without having-sensed. i was only laughing at me. skin hunger is prickling a little. like pins under a thin skein of milk that has closed over the top. asleep. inhaling the smell around someones lips. around the thin skin behind their ears, the warm throb on the side of the neck. cradling spider sacs like it might explain everything. the darkness that is the taste of saliva and self. and remembering what it means to let go to currents without letting go of the anticrista who is starting a slow dance alone in my belly. she's been asleep. waiting. for when her little fingernails and her little laugh and her little dances of glee. would be welcome again. to fuse herself with me. because. i am she. she is me. and we are we. and we will hold hands in a circle of two and end up somewhere on the ceiling. ankles and wrists pointing to the four corners and there was no water to be found anywhere. this is not rebirth. this gestation is lifelong. and i'm frustrated at my inability to express it except through these vagueries. and i can't stop smiling at the empty spaces i wanted to fill. i'm not even sure i understand , myself. i'm eating my own sins of the past two years. theres dog shit on my shoe [ previous� �|� � next ]
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