oldie. but goodie?
it's about the touch. it's difficult to explain beyond that. somewhere within, within that contact, is communication, a transfer of things good-no, of things great-of things that stop the heart with awe. so it's nature's reward for reproduction, the reward of feeling less alone. a contact high. the drive behind it all is the need for comfort, the need for warmth, the need for understanding, the need for affection. the need for our actions being needed by someone else. fulfillment is the best feeling in the world.
oh i could speak endlessly about the physical realities of sex, but this is not really what it's about. it's about me. soooo selfish. it's about me feeling alone. it's about me feeling like i want a hug and there is no hug. it's about me needing what my mother once provided me as a child: attention, affection. i want someone to hold me and regardless of whether they believe it or not (or even care for that matter), tell me everything is going to be okay. i hate this feeling of abandonment, of fending for myself in this rough, difficult world. i suppose i make my way alright, but sometimes i just can't take it and i need a shoulder or a bed or an ear or all three. and it's never there. never.
it creeps up in the darkness of night, when i'm locked in snug. and it crawls up my body, and enters under the eyelids and strikes with tears and i'm overtaken with the feeling of standing on a cliff: nothing ahead of me but a fall, and only the past behind me that i cannot return to. i look left, right. but no one's there; i'm alone. i'm alive, but it's like death. no choices but to keep looking ahead, down, at death. there's anxiety that i know the morning will come eventually, and the cliff will show itself to be a curb and the fall into a gutter. but that only comes at the expense of an endless night. an endless night in an endless life. somtimes i wish for nothing more than it to stop. sometimes. sometimes i just want it to go on forever.
in the morning, when the sun arrives to define the sierra nevadas. when the sun shines down on the dew, evaporating the night's thoughtful concentration, familiars return and the world stands out livable. at dawn, the world resets and my mind with it. at dawn, i will deny this mind-set, this touch. i will be a rock.
oh i could speak endlessly about the physical realities of sex, but this is not really what it's about. it's about me. soooo selfish. it's about me feeling alone. it's about me feeling like i want a hug and there is no hug. it's about me needing what my mother once provided me as a child: attention, affection. i want someone to hold me and regardless of whether they believe it or not (or even care for that matter), tell me everything is going to be okay. i hate this feeling of abandonment, of fending for myself in this rough, difficult world. i suppose i make my way alright, but sometimes i just can't take it and i need a shoulder or a bed or an ear or all three. and it's never there. never.
it creeps up in the darkness of night, when i'm locked in snug. and it crawls up my body, and enters under the eyelids and strikes with tears and i'm overtaken with the feeling of standing on a cliff: nothing ahead of me but a fall, and only the past behind me that i cannot return to. i look left, right. but no one's there; i'm alone. i'm alive, but it's like death. no choices but to keep looking ahead, down, at death. there's anxiety that i know the morning will come eventually, and the cliff will show itself to be a curb and the fall into a gutter. but that only comes at the expense of an endless night. an endless night in an endless life. somtimes i wish for nothing more than it to stop. sometimes. sometimes i just want it to go on forever.
in the morning, when the sun arrives to define the sierra nevadas. when the sun shines down on the dew, evaporating the night's thoughtful concentration, familiars return and the world stands out livable. at dawn, the world resets and my mind with it. at dawn, i will deny this mind-set, this touch. i will be a rock.