Because it's a strange feeling waking up to a stranger every-time
a xenophobic aroma
unfamiliar nakedness
complicated traces of an unknown brand of hair shampoo
lying on the pillow.

Either pretending to be asleep
when she dresses up to go
or making a fake offer to make warm, lemon tea
only to have one last dated access to an otherwise sacred body.

Then the dull thud
the absence of the unknown
creating nauseating feelings of melancholia
that you will be forever alone
and will have to live for Friday nights
3 digit figures of conquests notwithstanding.

Often times, lying all day naked
staring outside for the point, reason of it all.
By the evening, paranoia is almost gone
creative surges phoenixizing the Henry Miller in me
For the Anais Nin's and Tania's of the night
once again.

© Nothing Personal. March 03 2012.