Turning back the clock of non-existing time,
looking thru a windowless piece of glass.
writing nonsense just to let the hours pass by.
I see a non-future past, all is here, in the instant of my broken heart.
Feeling tired of waiting for the incoming flow of light that will
take me away from this mess that is my life.
JA ! I tried to laugh at the vulgar nature of pretending to care...
gone, gone beyond the fact.
The repetition of sounds, visual landscapes and ten fingers in my hands,
the smells of tandori chicken, as if walking on the streets of India with
my feet full of sand.
The tingling in my private parts, itching for a real man, that will fill me
with pleasure even for one night...feeling lips between my legs...
and one more and one more... an endless number of hands touching the soft
skin of my back... moaning in pleasure for a moment similar to
the nirvana of the Hindu Gods.
Flesh is here...flesh not here, I don't mind...mind and body disappear
in a flash...
from the distance, (as if time and distance were real), I observe the
exploration of dimensions that opens up; new sensations, not sensations,
and I realized,
it is only in my freedom I can fly, this dream world is just one of many
where I can touch my body with no hands...
anjani
03-13-2013
