Social Issues Surrounding My Energy
The trouble with energy fields, the issue of approachability. Of attraction and repulsion. I can only say each polar extreme grows stronger with the strength of the given magnet. An electromagnet, the energy which flows into it, defining that duality with its flow. I have a lot of energy, and it is somehow reassuring in an ominous way to be told that I have a strong energy -- something I perceive of myself, but rarely acknowledge publicly, for fear of appearing pompous or proud. In fact, the intensity of the energy that seems to burst from my chest, outwards through my arms and personality of brightened eyes, is more a strange exhausting curse than something to be proud of. A double edged sword which I have no illusions of being able to yield maturely or control.
Its a lovely girl, and another. They smile and kiss my face, or don't. To them, I share introspective and elaborate thoughts which cannot be easily replied to. It is silent agreement, and the conversation falls, uncarried, to the floor. I smoked pot, for real, and coughed and became something -- whatever it is I become on pot: that analytical hypercritical radiant ball of firing nerves, electric, the gravity of my attention can be felt to fill a room. The beautiful girl I want to kiss says "There is a gravity in this room, it is strong and it pulls me in."
A beloved roommate who also wants to sleep with the beautiful girl asks which direction the gravity is pulling her. He points broadly towards the opposite wall "There? Or..." He avoids pointing in my direction. I feel it is him edging her to choose which of us she will lay beside tonight.
Lovely, I kissed so tensely with forced tenderness and breath. My neck cracked loudly with the release of stored tension as I leaned sideways to kiss her downturned lips. Expensive portions, expansive tension, I hug her and breath deep into the embrace.
Its a lovely girl, and another. They smile and kiss my face, or don't. To them, I share introspective and elaborate thoughts which cannot be easily replied to. It is silent agreement, and the conversation falls, uncarried, to the floor. I smoked pot, for real, and coughed and became something -- whatever it is I become on pot: that analytical hypercritical radiant ball of firing nerves, electric, the gravity of my attention can be felt to fill a room. The beautiful girl I want to kiss says "There is a gravity in this room, it is strong and it pulls me in."
A beloved roommate who also wants to sleep with the beautiful girl asks which direction the gravity is pulling her. He points broadly towards the opposite wall "There? Or..." He avoids pointing in my direction. I feel it is him edging her to choose which of us she will lay beside tonight.
Lovely, I kissed so tensely with forced tenderness and breath. My neck cracked loudly with the release of stored tension as I leaned sideways to kiss her downturned lips. Expensive portions, expansive tension, I hug her and breath deep into the embrace.