Togetherness

So, I wanted to be with you once again. It has been so many days; my lust has grown profound, venting itself upon unknown premises, my mind cart wheeling along, and my body feverish. I could just die of it you know, my ailment was of such intensity, I have barely ever felt such, and I doubted everyday whether there was anything more to endure. Yet, endurance it never sought, rather, a way to vent it out, to digress all over, and to spread knowing to end. My mind hid in itself the emptiness of the universe; my body bore the weight of concealed accumulating desire. A way had to be found, or I was dying, I woke up in nights, sweat-smeared, myself hard and throbbing, my throat thirsty as it moaned in sleep, I dreamt of a woman, all perfect, I made love to her, but at the verge of expression, I felt strangulated, I could not free myself, it was meaningless.

So, I came back to you, you who have never been my dream. I imagined I was engraving your body piece by piece, I was pouring colour in to it, my lust made every height of pleasure darker than the rest, I gave your body flow, I made the your mountains high and proud, and on top of it, I put some soil, the colour darker than the dark you are, the soil warm and moist, the soil signifying growth, signifying beginning, heightened lust, where my last remains shall lay. They looked at each other right then, and as if suddenly arriving at animosity trying to decide which of them looked better decided to look away from the other. I liked how they appeared, I let them be. I rub my forehead upon them, as if to get smeared by the soil that I put, as if to smell, I see it grow, spread, throb even more. Intricate, desire is, embraces coincide, and bodies collide.

Up on the places where my body shall lay when my work shall be ravaged by me, I made it a plane, as if it is the place where grows hays of earnest endeavour, which lets a seeking man build a home. One by one, I planted upon it seeds of hair, slowly quivering in gentle touch or wind, they swirl down to the height of existence, where many a banal stroke shall end in emitting the highest of praise, the liquid of birth. I thought of you at each moment while creating and more than that I thought about myself, for you my love, more than what you are yourself, are just a blatant expression of my desire. For the man, a woman must be, and for such beings you are here, whether it’s my discovery or conquest, creation or conception, whatever you are, you are mine to cherish or to ravish. Thus, your freedom I shall not curtail, I shall not limit your purpose, but do acknowledge my need, for in such need you are appreciated the most.

Usher upon you my crude unknowing hand, lead me where the strings are attached, for it may be I who creates, still it far outwits my intelligence to understand the music of every string. My hand desires to touch you, as if to rub and make your skin mine, to define the definite expression of debauchery. My senses want to internalize the existence of yours, to suck the essence out of you, yet to preserve the vitality that is your touch, that is your independent freedom, that thinks and feels, to ravish, ravage be tender, gentle.

I see your eyes move now, you rest them up on and over me, the gentle glide, what do you see lady? What I see lies underneath, I seldom venture beyond your skin, its colour, texture, why be vexed by it when it engulfs all my wakefulness. That which throbs below your chest makes me think, yes, sometimes, but her intricacy, her fragility shall only answer to the crude that is me. What not I desire you to yield and what more, I bring flowers, for the genitalia of such immobile expressionless, propels the expression of passion and soon before I know, I feel your craving express itself up on my raggedness. The musk of yours is all around; I am confounded, helpless, a blind beggar in an empty dark street, being led, being led to the utmost source of everything that is alive. Such joy it is, to arrive, to feel and live and prosper with such a want, undying throughout the aging and decaying of life, the sheer joy of existing, exciting to be excited.

Here, below me, you take deep breathes, your eyes gaze past my shoulder, beyond me, forever seeking, searching the lights, the twinkling sounds of essence collecting up on the saucer you put out, let them assimilate, the cold whisper, a gentle blow from your mouth creates ripple upon them, you touch the surface, wipe it upon your wrist, look at the smear, your skin has goose bumps. I hear your voice, my vision tunneling, the light going out, smaller and smaller, the tunnel dark and deep, I am afraid, and taken by the fear, I hold you up, up on my chest, let the strokes meet the throbbing that is our heart, your body gives me sweat to cool itself, they have your aroma you know, all around, and say, I know by smell, by smell I know you, and I sink in it, the surface of the water is spinning above me, with ripples, and your face just a blur above, oh where to do I go, holding you in hand, and as if by this sheer force of extreme depravity I go away. Then it all stops as ecstasy floods in, I have had you. Lay by me side, lay around, the lust wanes, but does love awake? What was here, if not it by the purest and the most potent of expression, to doubt, nay, I shall not even tread there.

Woman, where to? Hither or far? Eyes sweep again, say, your smile is such a revelation.