When I think of you
my insides get very squirmy
like a barrel of live fishes.
I do not know if I like it or not.
It sometimes seems as if maybe I am full of you
and there is no room left for me
or my thoughts.
I think I’m okay with that part of it.
There is no shortage of thoughts to be thought,
I am sure.
I find your way of being in the world
**** and soothing.
Your mind smells very comforting to me
and the smell sticks in my soul
for what feels like ages.
It smells like a room made of great dark wooden shelves
full of books
and a big leather chair
next to a tall window
open to a view of the woods
and the rain.
Maybe a hint of
bourbon and cigar smoke
hang in the air.
I would love nothing more than to curl up in this room
and lose myself.
It can be hard to breathe
when you are close.
If you do go out of your way to smell nice,
I would probably miss it.
(Because it’s hard to breathe, you know.)
If I didn’t miss it,
I might pass out
from trying to catch my breath.
I told you once that I don’t like it
when you touch me.
That it makes me crazy.
I have wondered since why I said that
when what I really meant was
that your slightest touch sets my insides off
like a ******* carnival ride.
I very much do want you to touch me
I just couldn’t trust
how I felt
about all the touching.
I was afraid that when you touched me,
however innocently,
you would feel my soul quiver
and you would recoil.
It seems that you really pluck my strings.
Even if you don’t mean to be doing it.
When you place your body too near mine
‘in my bubble’
I feel as if I am a little waterfall
and you are putting your fingers in the water
to see it
interrupt
the flow.
I do not really mind the interruption
but I am wary
of letting it become a habit.
I believe that you merely
explore your environment
like a curious child
and will be moving on once satisfied
so I try not to hold on too tight.
But I want to devour you completely all the same.
I know that you have mind bullets,
even if you don’t.
Thus I am not sure if my impressions are my own
psychotic creation
or if you have somehow gained access
to my brainspace.
Maybe I’m paranoid.
You have certainly spent enough time
on my mind
to at least be cordial with the doorman.
That is an invitation of sorts.
I wonder if you simply accepted the invite
or if I have made a hostage of you in my mind.
Because I’m not sure I believe
that you actively sought entrance to this carnival.
Every bit of what falls from your lips
in my direction
is almost lost in the scramble to decipher the real meaning.
There are so many layers
to human experience.
I have difficulty keeping my awareness
on the proper layer
at the proper time
and thus I agonize over all that might’ve been meant
by what was actually said.
I assume you are speaking on more than one level
at least some of the time,
but you know what they say about assuming.
Your words often feel heavy with extra meaning,
but I never seem to catch on in time
or have a clever enough response.
I long to crawl inside your mind
and rummage through
until I find the section regarding layers of awareness.
That would definitely be a conversation
worth having.
When you asked if there was anything in your moustache
and made that sweet face
I wanted to tell you “Kisses!”
but I did not know if you really only meant
“Is there something stuck in my moustache?”
Or if you knew that they were there
and wanted assistance
with their removal.
So I just told you “Nope.”
I wish I would’ve said anything else.
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 7:11 PM UTC
When I think of you
my insides get very squirmy
like a barrel of live fishes.
I do not know if I like it or not.
It sometimes seems as if maybe I am full of you
and there is no room left for me
or my thoughts.
I think I’m okay with that part of it.
There is no shortage of thoughts to be thought,
I am sure.
I find your way of being in the world
**** and soothing.
Your mind smells very comforting to me
and the smell sticks in my soul
for what feels like ages.
It smells like a room made of great dark wooden shelves
full of books
and a big leather chair
next to a tall window
open to a view of the woods
and the rain.
Maybe a hint of
bourbon and cigar smoke
hang in the air.
I would love nothing more than to curl up in this room
and lose myself.
It can be hard to breathe
when you are close.
If you do go out of your way to smell nice,
I would probably miss it.
(Because it’s hard to breathe, you know.)
If I didn’t miss it,
I might pass out
from trying to catch my breath.
I told you once that I don’t like it
when you touch me.
That it makes me crazy.
I have wondered since why I said that
when what I really meant was
that your slightest touch sets my insides off
like a ******* carnival ride.
I very much do want you to touch me
I just couldn’t trust
how I felt
about all the touching.
I was afraid that when you touched me,
however innocently,
you would feel my soul quiver
and you would recoil.
It seems that you really pluck my strings.
Even if you don’t mean to be doing it.
When you place your body too near mine
‘in my bubble’
I feel as if I am a little waterfall
and you are putting your fingers in the water
to see it
interrupt
the flow.
I do not really mind the interruption
but I am wary
of letting it become a habit.
I believe that you merely
explore your environment
like a curious child
and will be moving on once satisfied
so I try not to hold on too tight.
But I want to devour you completely all the same.
I know that you have mind bullets,
even if you don’t.
Thus I am not sure if my impressions are my own
psychotic creation
or if you have somehow gained access
to my brainspace.
Maybe I’m paranoid.
You have certainly spent enough time
on my mind
to at least be cordial with the doorman.
That is an invitation of sorts.
I wonder if you simply accepted the invite
or if I have made a hostage of you in my mind.
Because I’m not sure I believe
that you actively sought entrance to this carnival.
Every bit of what falls from your lips
in my direction
is almost lost in the scramble to decipher the real meaning.
There are so many layers
to human experience.
I have difficulty keeping my awareness
on the proper layer
at the proper time
and thus I agonize over all that might’ve been meant
by what was actually said.
I assume you are speaking on more than one level
at least some of the time,
but you know what they say about assuming.
Your words often feel heavy with extra meaning,
but I never seem to catch on in time
or have a clever enough response.
I long to crawl inside your mind
and rummage through
until I find the section regarding layers of awareness.
That would definitely be a conversation
worth having.
When you asked if there was anything in your moustache
and made that sweet face
I wanted to tell you “Kisses!”
but I did not know if you really only meant
“Is there something stuck in my moustache?”
Or if you knew that they were there
and wanted assistance
with their removal.
So I just told you “Nope.”
I wish I would’ve said anything else.
Late Spring 2016
This was the first thing I wrote in over 2 decades. It felt really, really good; but I'm not sure that's an indication of quality.