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There is a distance between us, I have a feeling it might not shrink regardless of the best of travel agents.
If like me you often wonder “What should I be wondering about?” Do I have to ponder others lives? Am I wondering to my fullest, can I waste a thought? I imagine if I can, I am doing so now.
Can I lay your hand with ink? Every line becomes magnified and its magnificence becomes outlined. I could follow the ink across my body and make note of every significance. Drops of ink would mark where fires burned my nerves as your tips hovered miniscule distances from my skin. A tease, anticipation, sweet release. Stain my skin.
Oh the shackles of our aims. I feel locked and trapped with goal ahead. I feel safe and secure in random acts. Do I, Must I, Mother May I? leave a world of future progression? Will I disappoint you now for how I refuse my projected life. As I walk the beach of time my feet traverse the dry sand of estimate future and shallow waves of the present. I want to swim. I want to be over my head in current currents. I want to have to hold my breath for hours to dive down deep enough to plant my toes on shifting sands of prescience.
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-deven pitcher OhDeven.com--- |
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