Capricious

25 - An Elegant Marsh

"Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself."
- Franz Kafka

My skeletal metal frame perched on the edge just so. The hairs of my leg all jumping up and away just so. Breathing in cream, breathing out volcanic steam. Iceberg limbs slipping through iridescent tunes bursting from many a root. Dazzling light and moments a bright. Ivy fingers over scenes of mellow oh do linger. I am flying.

A wet shower of some inner fire, tropical storms bracing out the sun. The wind breaks us back, but we forge on through. Reflecting back at me so perfectly, to our each and every wave. I'm only melting on to you.

We're striving to identify ourselves. For to really gain what we want and who we want, we need to know who we are, we need others to know who we are. So we express ourselves in every way. Our mannerisms, our language, our demeanour. Our clothes, our make-up, our fashion. Our music, our culture, our sport. The things we own, the friends we have, the mistakes we make. We can only know ourselves by knowing others. We can only know what to do with our lives by knowing those of others. Our identity reveals we exist, so we express it at any chance we can. This is who I am, now I can find those like me, now those like me can find me too.

Communication is the answer to everything. Complete transparency destroys misunderstanding, jealousy, hate. It solves all problems born by difference, the precursor of conflict and war. Entire evolutions made to make communication faster and easier, through language and writing and technology. We need to do it better, as much as possible, we need to know how to live, the best that we can.

Happy, refreshed, impulsively reaching out for many a play and many a player. New games for a new summer, resplendent and reborn, flying without a care. I remember how beautiful everything can be. I don't want to lose myself in a single part of it any more, no matter how intensely beautiful it seems. I want to unfurl my wings, spread my life over all, not spend it lying in wait. I want to be crazy, dive through silly constructs, absorb from every world and live through everything. Why be jealous of the one path I cannot live? I have so many others that require only a little madness or an ounce of strength. Why waste time repairing the past? What is done is done. It's time to let go, to bring with me only what I need, to enter the unknown and discover all that life may hold. Life is opportunity.

Living by feeling, by instinct, by becoming slaves to our emotions, losing ourselves in the brilliant moment. Free of awkwardness, of embarrassment, of thinking and jealousy and consequence. Living by showing you everything. I'm not afraid to live, to tell you everything and anything I feel. I want you to know, I want to know you too. Honest, accepting, transparent communication. No playing with each other's minds, free of constructs, possession doesn't exist. I want you to know how amazing you are, how beautiful every little detail is. I want to see as you see and for you to see as I see. I want to live everything yes, but only so I can share it all with you. Let us stop thinking, let us hunt beauty together. Why be so afraid?

It's almost like burning, or drowning, or falling from an aeroplane. It's that shocking rush that takes over everything. That draws your broken, fragmented, worrying mind in to focus simply on an explosion of painless chemical bliss. It rescues you from problems of the wider world, putting everything into a subconscious perspective. Just feeling good.

The sun blazes through the windows, spraying you with light, torturing our already heated sweating bodies. We are animals at each other in the hotel room, teasing and playing and making love. We have all the time in the world. Lips going mad, limbs supporting our erogenous mix. I have an idea. Jumping up, hand in the bucket, an ice cube I draw. You look back at me. Your mouth says no, but your smiling eyes say yes. I dive at you, your arms feebly resisting. Running the cube down the centre of your body, over your nose and mouth and chin, down your neck and chest and in circles over the nipples of each breast. Staring into your contorting face, eyes locked longingly into mine. Back down your stomach, over belly-button and below, but then I stop. No longer resisting, I run it down your foot, your calf, your thigh. My melting cube then encircling your pussy, almost in and then rubbing against your clit. You wrestle silly against me. I bring the cube to my mouth, taste it, kiss you with it. Tongues sharing this cold delight. Beautiful shock. You grab me into you. We mess around some more.

I see now so simply the broad strokes of all I am. I see from yet another perspective all the naive mistakes I have committed. I see how I belong and how I must cope with being so. I think too much, I feel too much, I say too much. That's just me. I have to bear some rejection, some pain. I have to be rational, try to understand why I'm doing what I'm doing. I need time alone, but also with others. I can play now, I can live by jumping through chance, by not falling into an abyss of disappointment like before. I need to find my life, I need to change direction, I need to burst free and show the world. I am who I am.

Now I lose myself in the chaos of the world, manipulated by sudden social impulse and the overarching disappointment that I have not got the rush I desired, that found me in younger times. I'm living as I go, focusing less on particulars and trying not to fall from the clouds. Fitting together events like puzzle pieces, bringing in other lives and playing my inner kid. We're all different, but we're all the same. My mind devoured by left wing, right wing, back wing, no wing. Ideas inflate, the sun transcends, pleasure falters. It is only good in our expectation. I live so dark. They play me higher, but I am still lost. Playing into my madness, I can't do much else. My imagination is unsure of its intentions, fearing sudden impulse and apologising for unknown crimes. A slight jealousy creeps in, but that is not me! I don't care! Lives lived so close, but so differently. I am the magnificent fool to not know anything at all. Futures I must construct with no longer the motivation to proceed. How did everything get so boring? How have I gotten to the point where all I have means nothing at all? Wait in the dimly lit corner I shall, for finding companions in the dark is all too archaic and disturbing. I must appear sane enough to discard the stigma of strangers' prejudice. I may not know the name for what I feel, but soon I will be able to tell you everything, and together we can dance a whole new show. Lives lived, lives living, lives to live. I'm a fool of a clown, and this pivoting see-saw of emotion is a capricious curse to bear.

The sun awakens and yawns a breeze. I feel the delicate glowing burn against my skin and the delightful glorious charge on my mind. Everything is going to change. Here we go again.