awakening and wanting, sleeping with an eye open

Dec 17, 2006 16:09

Is there anything more delicious than sleeping in on a Sunday morning after staying up half the night on the telephone, listening to the Dangerboy’s voice get sleepier and sleepier? The closer that midnight draws, the barer our confessions become. It’s this enchanted time that draws our secrets, like fishes, from the depths of this sea. Only the moon with her milky halo and the night animals share this time with us.

It’s less than two weeks and I’ll be in Portland with him, my hair a fright, his eyes laughing, in his arms, colliding. I’ve a life beyond his reaches, but sharing what I do with him feels amazing. It feels so safe and right. I feel so safe with him. Usually, when I enter rooms, I study the situation, look for ports of entry and exit points, keep my back to the wall, teeth sharp, knife in my boot. With him, I don’t do this; I am overcome with the feeling that nothing truly bad could happen in his presence. I like the ease with which I’ve transitioned into this. It’s like breathing, sleeping, waking up. Breathing.

When he's over me, he's sky, beneath me earth and gravity, inside me the ocean. We press our hips together, make a temple of this heat. We call this religion.

The Former Sister Asphyxia

mr. john foster, dangerboy, crush, mr. foster

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