(no subject)
I don’t want what is obvious.
Though the curves are tantalizing, begging attention and the intensity of a touch that will not, can not yield, they are mere curves. Eventually we all come to know them, the lines and the frame, the way the body flows from one point to the next. The thrill of the exploration fades and then we move on seeking something more beneath our fingertips.
But in the mind, the never-ending thoughts that race through your head is a pursuit that will never end. No matter how much we know we will never know everything, because with every moment that passes there is something more. Memories are not stagnant but fluid. We long for someone to know us like that, to love us for that look we get in our eyes when we face a challenge, the way the tone changes and hands begin to gesture when we care about the words we speak.
I know there’s nowhere you can hide it, the emptiness, the feeling of alone even in someone’s arms. When there is a touch but nothing too it, the thrill faded into the everyday motions of another time. Longing for something that can reach inside and pull us from within ourselves. Something that can stir that feeling of being alive that will last beyond when you leave their bed or when the fire slips from your veins. Given all the bottles in the world there is still the moment when they are empty and we still want more, unsatisfied.
The morphine memories snake through me, touching all the spots that ache and leaving only bliss, sweet ignorant bliss. Chemicals that rob me of my thoughts and change my mind, no control of the very thing which I seek. Push that limit, drive harder, faster, deeper, make it hurt so sweetly and forget the way you will feel in the hours to come. Feel something, anything other than that unsatisfied taste that won’t leave your tongue. Live hard, die young, rather than being waking dead to the world. Cut deep, scars tell the stories of that need.
Blind me to all I see, let it not corrupt this. Stealing away a touch that slips into me and caresses that which no skin can ever feel. I don’t want the reflection in your eyes. I want what lies behind them.
Though the curves are tantalizing, begging attention and the intensity of a touch that will not, can not yield, they are mere curves. Eventually we all come to know them, the lines and the frame, the way the body flows from one point to the next. The thrill of the exploration fades and then we move on seeking something more beneath our fingertips.
But in the mind, the never-ending thoughts that race through your head is a pursuit that will never end. No matter how much we know we will never know everything, because with every moment that passes there is something more. Memories are not stagnant but fluid. We long for someone to know us like that, to love us for that look we get in our eyes when we face a challenge, the way the tone changes and hands begin to gesture when we care about the words we speak.
I know there’s nowhere you can hide it, the emptiness, the feeling of alone even in someone’s arms. When there is a touch but nothing too it, the thrill faded into the everyday motions of another time. Longing for something that can reach inside and pull us from within ourselves. Something that can stir that feeling of being alive that will last beyond when you leave their bed or when the fire slips from your veins. Given all the bottles in the world there is still the moment when they are empty and we still want more, unsatisfied.
The morphine memories snake through me, touching all the spots that ache and leaving only bliss, sweet ignorant bliss. Chemicals that rob me of my thoughts and change my mind, no control of the very thing which I seek. Push that limit, drive harder, faster, deeper, make it hurt so sweetly and forget the way you will feel in the hours to come. Feel something, anything other than that unsatisfied taste that won’t leave your tongue. Live hard, die young, rather than being waking dead to the world. Cut deep, scars tell the stories of that need.
Blind me to all I see, let it not corrupt this. Stealing away a touch that slips into me and caresses that which no skin can ever feel. I don’t want the reflection in your eyes. I want what lies behind them.