september 18, 2010 11:00 pm - september 19, 2010 4:40 am (or, hugging at 186,000 miles per second)

white noise and a salt and pepper television set screen
a guitar god plays a single incendiary guitar lick
over and over
overandover

it has begun

i am fetal and prone and smiling, now.

now, i am stretched out, taut, extremities aching
your body is holdin mine
but
for oneone millionth of a second and then
and then out
and then back
and then out
my toes are splayed in wait
for the next one millionth of a second
where i will know



this is a completely flaccid orgasm
this memory
the almost rupturing leg muscles, the medial collateral, posterior cruciate, anterior cruciate ligaments, my quivering achilles waiting anticipating yearning feeling a feeling of a memory of a feeling
its a little bit like
its a little bit like
its a little bit like
no its everything like
a time i thought would be all the time and now is just a time that no longer is except when i call it up from the grave with seances held in dark basements with lou reed intoning: shiny shiny boots of leather shiny shiny shiny boots of leather i am tired i am weary i could sleep for a thousand years a thousand dreams that would awake me
my body shakes as the taut line slackens and nico who is really you and you interject and ask me to please put down my hands because you see me
my heart's arms are vigorously composing the rhythm and melody
of yours arms wrapped tightly around my own arms wrapped tightly around your own arms wrapped tightly wrapped tightly

i am completely lucid when i say i am absolutely out of my gourd
i feel such polarity
my beings fabric stretches the impasse
so
i bounce up and down upon it
like a class of children at recess
i am completely lucid when i say i am absolutely out of my gourd
each cigarette is ballast to keep feet and ground in commune
i dont want to ever stop remembering how it was to hold you for even a millionth of a second
and my big toes reach over and press down on their neighbors doorbell as you return
and are gone
return
and are gone
return
and are gone
return
and are gone

i am laying on the couch listening to holly miranda and yoko
taut as a bed sheet stretching the equator to antarctica
aching from round upon round of millionth of a second hugs
this millionth of a second is the entire blanket i am wrapped in
looped and on repeat my index finger on repeat hitting the button
it has become inextricable with the fabric of my being
and now its gone again

i have to get up and walk around.

(but alas
the world out there
away from your millionth of a second hugs
is filled with you sidling up
is filled with you saddling up
but its only a waking quaking dream
with undertow for days
my smiling face swirling down
my arms clawing skywards, landwards, out


god, i'm so frightened.
god, i'm very very frightening.
i've overdone it
i hope some people like burnt toast)