Wednesday, September 12, 2007

A billion of years

It's not me you know, who is waiting here,
troubled on the end of a humming internet line,
waiting for you to say something, anything.

It's every minute of evolution, that drives me.
I can feel the pulse of a billion years making me crazy.

And yes, oh yes. I'm crazy.

But not for you. Nor about you.
But for this, this shivering between my legs,
that rattles up my hips.
This quaking in my midriff.

It shakes me in the heart and the lungs.

My brain is clouded. It's not me here.
Not me in my skull.
The words no longer coalesce out of the dew of my thoughts,
my can'ts, won'ts and isn'ts
have all become oughts.

And while last night I fended away your touch,
it wasn't from disdain, but wanting too much.

It wasn't me there, in my body, but all my fears
the fears made up of a billion years.

I know I will close this call,
I know you will be here tonight
waiting by the door, hoping I will let you in,
not just in, but in, and in, and in, and in.
Into me.
My body.

But do you care if it is into me, or just the needs
the needs that hold me at their mercy?
The merciless mercy, that drugs all my pains.

What your petting does to me,
what your caresses drive me to.
How my skin aches and chafes for the wont
and want
and wanting.

My clothes seem to burn and irritate,
my nerves are to awake.

Yearning with the vigilance of a billion years.

A billion years ago, nature, in wicked wit and wisdom,
cut a gulf between our genders, and then sealed the porous boundary,
to rock rigid anatomy is destiny.

Over that gap of a billion years, I stare at you, and you at me.
It is not us here, but the war of a billion years.

I want that you that is a swimming fish,
that plunges ahead in the dark.
I have an ocean of love for you my fish.
The ocean of a billion years, when first the fishes flew
flew through the salt of the water.

Reach me.
Take me.
Drag me beneath that weight.
Hammer into me with that force.
And my mind will subside into my skin, sealed off from you,
whoever you are, on the gap and that gulf.

Reach me.
Take me.
Drag me beneath.

The static I hear,
the crackle of deep space in the line,
is older I know.
It laughs at me from eons when only hydrogen stars burned bright in the ageless night.
from star dust to stardust

But even with this, I am patient,
for I have been waiting, for your words
for a billion of years.

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