He’s starting to wind his arms around me again,
encircling my body with his strange familiar touch.
His tongue tasting the fear and ignorance etched onto my skin and scales.
How many times must I shun before the message transmitted is received?
How many more times can my faith keep me from faltering?
Not nearly enough as it takes.
To those that judge and come to their subjective conclusions of characters unknown.
To deserted frauds masquerading as friends.
To the damnable and undeniable.
To society’s flawed ideals and notions of regularity.
To every single person that has said ‘You can’t’
To the liars, the cheaters, the hapless, the hopeless.
The broken, the destitute, the demonic and doubtful.
The manipulative bastards whose words we absorb.
The deceitful countenances of our bureaucracy.
To everyone that won’t stand up for themselves.
To the crippled minds of this generation.
This is it.
All I want to do is cover every inch of his honey toned skin with my mouth.
Leave imprints of my lips on his body
Both as a gesture of appreciation and a mark of my territory.
This elation I’ve started to come to terms with is both foreign a sentiment,
And yet all too frightening a flutter to feel.
My primal nature seeks to claim him and my sensibilities cry out for diversion.
Diversion from what could at once be soul consuming and absolutely nerve wrecking.
My cause is as sound as my explanation.
Eu não confio em mim.
Haven’t I been clear in my intention?
Could I have been any more lucid?
Devout? Decrepit? Derelict.
Sacred flower turned scarlet letter.
Who wears the A?
Upturned lips, pursed petals.
Longing and regret woven together in an intoxicated plume of delicious desire.
What happened of S and L?
Flummoxed expressions, ridiculed pleasantries.
And what of Don Juan and Casanova?
Dead as a door nail.
Sometimes you feel in need.
But you falter to take steps forward due to the uncertainty.
I feel in need.
And it’s lightly inked across my face as an expression,
Over my skin as a momentous desire that overwhelms my mind,
Under my subconscious thoughts as a rhythm too perverse and degrading to register.
It’s ugly because it’s unknown
And I’m scared because I feel nada.
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about intimacy.
More importantly what it means to be intimate.
Is it touch and tone that sets a relationship in stone?
Or is it an understanding so great from any other that helps you feel closer to one another?
Both in balance is an answer that many would give.
But why is it so hard to find that balance?
I’ve never been very good at expressing myself to others.
Not through the words I’ve spoken or even those I’ve noted down…
The goodness that should have been shared was mostly kept to myself.
It’s not easy to change, hardly any easier for a caterpillar to turn into a butterfly.
These processes, the progression, it all takes time.
Time; the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole.
Time; Tiempo; Tempo; languid, rhythmic, never ending, never beginning.
I’ve come a long way from where I once was but not too far to turn around
And this I keep in mind daily to avoid regression.
A lot has happened these last few months - most for the better.
Everything happens for a reason,
And I’m in the process of finding mine.