Poetic Endorphins
the door was there, and so was she.
the fabric of reality
was torn, or maybe sewn anew,
as we did what two people do
as, lost in storms, we searched for hope,
and hung on little bits of rope,
and made such heat as we required,
going just where we desired.
i remember all of it —
the fabric torn, the perfect fit,
the warm, the wet, the time, the place,
the upturned eyes within the face,
the girl who waits, the boy who hunts,
the sound of everything
at once
Our laughter turned into a sort of rhythm,
Our rhythm turned into a sort of dance;
As motion filled with music filled with passion,
A double-bed became a vast expanse —
A journey that it took a while to finish,
Two pioneers upon a new-cut trail;
And she was like a book I couldn’t put down,
Except I had to read it all
By braille
[From a journal I used to keep –]
… I see you every day and I dream about you – my body produces this ridiculous overabundance of sperm cells, cells I wish I could leave inside you, feeling you, tasting you – it is a madness, and obsession, it follows me everywhere and haunts my every waking moment – but I can’t make you feel it, you don’t feel it, your eyes wander elsewhere, and my whole mind goes numb with rejection – until tonight, when I’ll see you again, for even my dreams conspire against me, and you will be there, and you will give yourself to me, and I will know what I will never know what I will never know what I can never know …
This isn’t what a man should be,
He feels it in her stare —
Although there’s no one else who knows
And just as few who care
He feels the weight of everyone,
As though they, too, gaze steady
Upon a man whose blood won’t flow:
It’s like he’s dead
Already
She turned to me with haunted look
Atop the spires of her pain,
I took her to my house and bed
And made it snow, and sleet, and rain
Her brown hair tumbled everywhere,
As she arched back in focus pure;
I thought I’d known that haunted look,
But never could
Be sure
So long upon the path of most resistance,
No thought of you until we reached the day
We slipped into a habit of insistence;
An urgency that carried us away.
What is it that we humans do together
That makes us somehow less and somewhat more?
For sanity was there, and in good measure,
But disappeared the day we closed that door.
The things we didn’t mean were real desires,
A thousand that we never said at all:
So long upon the path of most resistance —
Until we jumped into
The waterfall
