Hey man in my dreams,
I am writing you this love letter because I can. I want to
express (invisibly, within the confines of my safe little journal) to you a
brand of sweetness that seems, as yet (or has it already been?), almost
entirely elusive and somewhat unobtainable/unavailable to your scarred and
ragged heart. I want that mountain
of tears to melt, I want an avalanche of icy, shattered hurt to melt, to reveal
that sore, tender and yet shining mound of heart that I know beats so deftly somewhere there within that hot,
throbbing lion’s chest of yours. Ohhh mmmmmmmm that same chest I want to claw
at and strip and tease and fucking HAVE next to my warm body as you stroke me
there and all over with your calloused hands. Your scarred paws need to read my
maps, carve tracks into my scarred body, trace my (our) imperfections with your
touch. Or are you too busy counting yours and clocking them up, tallying your
hurts and weighing them up in the midst of your self-depreciating Egyptian
death rituals? I want to swear and sway and fuck and beat rhythms into the
earth that caves beneath us. I want ecstatic ritual to be our only voyeuristic
ally. I want I want! If truth be told I saw your eyes for the first time as if
it were a re-remembering. Those eyes that bore down on me, invited me to pierce
into, asked me to ask more. And then closed. Like a moth to the flame I run
into eyes that express that same hurt I recognise, I know. I can read them
because I know that hurt. You may think you are fooling the world but I am not
part of that world. I am of the same tree. Your fruits, born of suffering and
flagellation, I have felt those same lashings. The scars are also mapped out in
my eyes. Our eyes. I have wanted to rob my own eyes of these same dark shadows.
But yet I revere them. I honour scars, my scar clan. Our scar clan. A clan that
is thickly encrusted with the blood of a thousand battles. I can smell your
warrior instinct and it enacts a type of protective mechanism that I need you
to help me understand. Are you there?
With ferocity and love.
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