Relationship Anarchy

They lay in bed wrapped tightly in his favorite cuddling position.  He's flat on his back with her left leg in between his legs , her right leg over over his left leg and across his body, genitals aligned, torsos attached, his hands have access to the entirety of her, her head rests on his full hairy chest.  Her large breasts have become ships, adrift at sea, subject to the inconsistencies of his breath.  She plants kisses on his neck sending chills down his spine, making his famously warm body cold...but he uses deft hands and hugs the size of tidal waves to stave off the cold.

He picks up her limp relaxed hand, holds it high above his head, and drops it straight onto his face with a start.  She didn't think to stop him.  She accepts him, feels no guilt, lets him be.  He has tried this with more people than he can remember, but she is the first.  The first who lets him cause his own pain.  The first to not feel guilt.  The first to accept their own bit of pleasure in this exchange.  She does not stop him because of her guilt at her own pleasure nor she she stop him out of some far off wish to fix or change this desire in him....she does not stop him.

The I quite smoking cigs Blues

I have an abusive relationship with the world so is it really that surprising that I have one with myself.  The real reason I want to smoke cigarettes is the need of having fire in my hands to put out on my wrists/ankles.  It's been a month since I burned myself.  I was on the phone while I did it, fighting with her.  I never hate myself more than when I fight with someone I love.  I have no shame, and I don't give a fuck if I have some teenage coping mechanisms.  It's a lot fucking better than vegging out on a couch and watching a TV show to fucking paralyze the rest of my feelings.  The world abuses me, and I was born with more privilege than 99.9% of the people on this planet.  I am fine with my body, i have never wanted for food or shelter, and hardly if ever have I been denied access to something I needed, with the exception of some medical care (but that is my decision not to work a full time job w/insurance...which is a luxury).

I don't live in Bali or Kauai or any other warm surf paradise/jungle....I live in Oakland.  I live here because I am here.  Inside of me is humanity so strong that sometimes I need to cut myself to let a little more of it flow out of me, there is too much blood coursing through my veins.  Inside of me beats a heart big enough to feed the world.  Inside of me lives a consciousness at war with itself, with shining beautiful thoughts rising out of the abyss.

I am beholden to radical change and the rest of the creatures on this planet.  I am beholden because in them I see myself.  I came into this world naked with nothing but tears and open hands and I will be there to fill your hands and remind you to keep crying.  I want to live in a world I created.  I don't want their world.  I don't want infinite pain and suffering.  I want kindness compassion, constant non stop revolution in myself and the world.  I want change.  I want love so big that I can't define it or even hold onto it.  I want to hold nothing but my compassion.  I will keep burning myself if I have to, I will tattoo lyrics from my favorite shitty emo folk singer across my body with a sewing needle and a #2 pencil if I need to, I will, I will, I will, I will, I will, I will spend everyday fighting to live to create a different world, my world, our world, or I will stay alive until the next day I have the strength to fight, I will

You were never

your love hangs, a pall
it is chained to you, a prison
too many words, a eulogy
cling until taut, a frozen rope

you are suffering
Transposed and innards splayed
You were never opaque anyways

Morning Light

Sunlight fills a small blue room through a pink curtain.
Toes point in opposite directions, punctuating long musuclar interwined calves and thighs that meet at a mass of hair providing cover to the entry to this universe
Large mountains named breasts fall off the sides of her chest, shadows and sunlight dance upon her, connecting freckles like constellations,
In the stars on her face he sees the universe
This moment has thrust eternity upon him

Her gaze meets his directly, pulling taut all the space that was between them

Her eyes are flames, burning amber embers enveloped by the sun's rays
They set him afire
Chills run down his spine, hair stuck straight up by the static, his entire body hums at a near audible level
He is seen
He stands still, immobile, full of desire to share everything inside of him that he has spent his life building
He wants to tear out his insides, to draw a map of the synapses firing inside of him, to create a pollock covering the bedroom walls with his secrets
He has stayed alive for this moment, this place in time where he does not curse the gods for the world he was born into, for it's ephemeral nature, for it's infinite pain and suffering

He slowly moves toward her, existential weight falling off broad shoulders
In a world of billions of souls and infinite possibilities, he had never known so deeply, that he was exactly where he wanted to be.