emotionally we inhabit a hollow space and fill it gradually with affection and
doubt.
i pull a cord of thought and it slides against my tongue; i pull on the strings making spider webs between his ribs. our tethers grow but the context dries and dulls.
our mouths are ******, so we spill nervously we cough red laughter.
nothing’s finite and reality is perfect,
but the physically interactive is tiny and rigid and cleansing itself of fantasy. i imagine everything; he accepts my ideas. ideas that pile up at our feet in spirals. (there must be many realities where he loves me with red-blooded caution.)
each tiny choice, each delicate gesture, is a canal leading back to here, transformed. becoming more strange, stimulating my dulled senses.
his chest heaves, we share in an unraveling process. the weight of significance is the gravity keeping me present mentally.
between us, the air is dusty. red coughs are dried out and tortured. my mouth is pulled down naturally; his rises. a change of heart, the landscape blooms green and my thoughts are happy snakes in foliage. my grin bleeds openly as i laugh, out loud, with him – our universe is a soft space we fill with laughter.