Night, let me be your lover

Jun 24, 2003 01:00

Night, how I crave the blanket of your breath,
The black of your belly,
The whisper of your song.
How you creep upon my skin;
How brisk your wet lips on my cheek.

The desolated wrinkle their brows in your presence;
They roll back their eyes.
The sidewalks creek and moan in your weight,
A deep rumbling cry.
The trees are wailing in your ending.

Night, let me rest in you.
The sensation of your spine pressed against mine.
Your smile lets me know Im alive.

A bit of poetry to end a night, and/or begin a day. I am desperately searching for new inspiration, new artists and perhaps poets to share a spark with existance. Life is dull as I see it now. Not that I crave change, for change brings conflict and well... I despise conflict.

I wandered the city alone, today. I allowed the sun to beat down into my face as I squinted out the endlessly tall glass windows, peering over the lake and into Gas Works Park. I could barely make out small gatherings of young children, dangling about on the heavy equipment in pure bliss, unaware of the blisters and bruises and cuts and dangers. I walked for hours, sipping my coffee and fruit juice, pausing to devour some naan and observing a cult of 'Punks' with their florescent mowhawks, fried sideburns and quirky frowns, board the monorail in their usual rival fashion. I spoke with an older hippie woman on the edge of the Space Needle fountain as we basked in the late afternoon rays. I was even tempted to join the rambunctious pre-teenage boys as they slid down the moist walls of the Keyarena in the afternoon sprinkle.

But I held myself back..

It was a bit difficult, though. Surrounded by hundreds of social puppies, all absorbed into their own unique and rushed Seattle worlds and yet.. this little strawberry blonde in absolute solitude, in the midst of it all.
I raised myself to be a Seattle doll. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
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