I'm feeling kind of up in the air tonight. Slightly lost, mostly unsure. It's not a position I enjoy. Like a turtle on it's back all spinning around. It's frightening. Certainly there are things I am sure about, but right now, at this second, nothing is for sure. We have come to a certain fork in the road that, although anticipated on a map, when we reach it, it seems I can't decide, can't move, just look in either direction and stand very still.
So, while I am waiting, I was cleaning out my archives...and found some very bad poetry. Stream of consciousness kind of love poetry I wrote in July, when things were hot all over and I was feeling brilliant while intoxicated at 2AM. It is awful really, but it made me smile. Wanna read it? Well, too bad, I'm posting it anyway...I don't feel like writing out my confusion so the readership gets some sappy, overwrought love poetry to chew on. And it goes a little something like this.....
"I want to lick you with poetry, to scald your skin with rapacious light tongue strokes and open your body for my frenzy. I long to whisper sweetly against the hallows of your body, fidget violently upon you like a thousand stampeding spiders. I lust to send the soldiers of my fingers traipsing through the dense, barbed wired, no-man’s-land of your fighting soul. My knees buckle from the desire to lock about you, hold you like the vice of my very will to have you. For I am powerful and will lift you up, my broad back your throne, for my great strength was built by longing and slick dreams tied up in pretty pink bows."
Wow, thank God we don't consider ourselves a poet, right? Ha, ha. Boy, that is more than slightly terrible. Surprising I put fingers to keyboard sometimes, isn't it. Well, I'm going to bed --I have some ravishing days ahead and need the strength for tomorrow and the next day. So, at a crossroads we stand, head held high, prettier, smarter, funnier, and the rest we shall see on.
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