Tag Archives: musings

Fixation

The pressure continues to build. It is escalated by every look and sound and lingering scent. It fills my mind, dictates my mood and influences my motions.

Then, she whispers. Her voice vibrates with electricity and pushes my pulse. Beginning coyly, her words slowly become more pointed with truth and more carried by desire. She ignores her inhibitions. I reciprocate her attitudes.

Apparent, always, is the risk. We feed from it until we are filled and empty, though insatiable. Every scheme is sketched beneath a vale with the care of a tenured tutor. We step quietly, then quickly. We dance until our breath is chaotic amid the sweat and sound and struggle.

She begs for more and I acquiesce to her demands. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow we continue, as if it is all we need: without thought for food, or rest, or feeling. Time allows our indulgences, and she consumes me. Then, we begin anew.

Fireside

As I watch the television, I’m wishing I could sprout a fire. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not speaking in metaphor. A flame is what I desire, surrounded by rock and burning dry, fallen wood. I can smell the smoke. Together with the fresh air, it fills my lungs. The television is disappearing now. The florescent lights dim. The characters portrayed are melting. It’s just a fire, it seems–in the middle of my living room.

Then, the walls begin to dissipate. In fact, the roof goes first. It’s not destructive, but rather a peaceful fading. The paint goes from white to black, yes, but it’s quicker than that. It’s almost as if a fog is clearing. The ceiling clears away as a haze in the sun, giving way to a night sky and stars above. Smoke curls up from the fire to meet the starry gaze.

Now it’s the walls. Yes, they’re descending, shrinking, lowering even. I know the bushes and homes and grasses that are outside, but none of them appear. No, there are trees and forest and dirt. It’s moving quickly. My possessions are nothing. It’s me, the carpet, the fire and the forest.

Moss grows toward my feet. Through the carpet comes splotches of green and brown, tinted with the shadows that dance across the atmosphere from the flickering flame. I’m consumed by the wilderness–entrenched. A song, a tune plays in my ear like a whistle and a hum, giving way to the crackle of the fire. I breathe in the scents that surround me: the evergreens, the burning and the dirt, and am lifted to the stars upon the plume of smoke that rises before me.

I’m a radio clown

On the air and at sea–

A lecherous leper

Who’s grasping at teeth.

I’m an integrity salesman

Who’s clipping his wings,

And we’re all just beggars

Wanting shiny things.

We’d talk of religion

If it made any sense,

Sell our souls if we had them

For liquor and rent.

Know it’s not God that binds us,

Rather sorrow and shame

And a love which we strive for

To better our names.

So put it behind you.

I’ll try to forget,

And deceive the spirits

That spin in our heads.

We’ll quell the anger

Together as one

And bury the bodies

Killed in view of the sun.

No more talk of religion,

Or souls of lost men.

We’ll reason the world

With glass beakers and gin.

No ethereal emperor,

Just flesh and bone,

And the craziest world

That we know as our home.