Banana bread w/ Nutella
Because I want to - I need to feel some comfort.
That is why I tease my senses 'til they explode. But stop there. I don't want the secret to be revealed. I don't want the mystery to be gone. Because enchantment vanishes with unveiling, and without enchantment there is no meaning. Passion lies there, where an element of ignorance still remains...
(Open wounds that never heal. What comes after the Mickey Mouse-patterned band aid?)
Because I don't feel loved or protected. I need affection and shelter, a pair of arms around me, kisses in my heart, not only comfort. I need the exchange of ethereal fluid, the one that distinguishes me from a robot (even from the most sophisticated one, if you may ask), the one that defines biology, the beautifulest, the last one to go. I need a pond filled up with sweet clear blue waters, in which to slowly dip my feet in, dive at a regular pace, cautiously go deep into with my eyes wide open so I can see, and come up to the surface again, before I run out of breath. But cleansed. New fresh air. Breathe in, breathe out; breathing is now a natural process.
I need balance; I need a ball of tasteless fluffy white cotton inside my mouth, to absorb the natural moist produced by my inner cheeks, until thirst and hunger and sucked up. And then swallow the now wet white chunk, until my never-ending pain in my volcano stomach is soothed up. Caress my belly, until the edges are softened and become round, until the eternal swelling goes down.
I need your feet on my feet, because they are cold at night, just as my hands are during the day.
I need you right in front of me, and to breathe in your breath.
Love me. Protect me. Look at me. Talk to me. Feed me. Drink me. Breathe me in.
That is why I tease my senses 'til they explode. But stop there. I don't want the secret to be revealed. I don't want the mystery to be gone. Because enchantment vanishes with unveiling, and without enchantment there is no meaning. Passion lies there, where an element of ignorance still remains...
(Open wounds that never heal. What comes after the Mickey Mouse-patterned band aid?)
Because I don't feel loved or protected. I need affection and shelter, a pair of arms around me, kisses in my heart, not only comfort. I need the exchange of ethereal fluid, the one that distinguishes me from a robot (even from the most sophisticated one, if you may ask), the one that defines biology, the beautifulest, the last one to go. I need a pond filled up with sweet clear blue waters, in which to slowly dip my feet in, dive at a regular pace, cautiously go deep into with my eyes wide open so I can see, and come up to the surface again, before I run out of breath. But cleansed. New fresh air. Breathe in, breathe out; breathing is now a natural process.
I need balance; I need a ball of tasteless fluffy white cotton inside my mouth, to absorb the natural moist produced by my inner cheeks, until thirst and hunger and sucked up. And then swallow the now wet white chunk, until my never-ending pain in my volcano stomach is soothed up. Caress my belly, until the edges are softened and become round, until the eternal swelling goes down.
I need your feet on my feet, because they are cold at night, just as my hands are during the day.
I need you right in front of me, and to breathe in your breath.
Love me. Protect me. Look at me. Talk to me. Feed me. Drink me. Breathe me in.
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