Waking the skin

I am asleep, in coma, sleepwalking through existence since he went away.  And I am afraid of waking up again.

Will it be a touch of hands? Lips? A smile? Or a fight? I know it won´t be an attempted suicide, cause I´ve tried that already. What will kick start the engines of my heart, my mind, my soul? Cause I am sleeping, and numb.


The Waking

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground!   I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.


I close my eyes and I can see him over me, we´re both reflected on the mirror on the ceiling, the bed framing us square. We´re in a mess of sheets, a beast of two heads, eight – limbed and lazily we basked under the soft afternoon light pouring in through the window, light of a velvet gold that only the gloriously sunny afternoons of June can grant: saturated, rich, and warm as fond memories and juicy as the first leaves of a young tree.

And when he was spent, he let his whole weight on me, and I took it gladly, even more than I took his seed. His heart beat calmly next to my own. I, subject and object of my own research, I collecting evidences that I can love, if only for a time, I can.


I can still remember his taste.

I can still remember the taste of the few I cared for deeply.

It was a short wakening, and then I was asleep again. I need to wake again.

And I have been aggressive, cynical, skeptical, unable to respect the feelings of anyone of the opposite sex. Let me sleepwalk in, and the hippo in the china shop won´t let anything unbroken.

Will it be a tongue, tickling my clit and licking my juices? Strong hands holding me down, while I am ridden, a filly eager to throw the rider off from the saddle, and deep down inside yearning to find the rider good enough to tame her.  A kiss? A bite? A stare from a pair of devoted intense eyes where I can see the whole world and beyond, perhaps even my soul therein reflected?

Ain´t gonna be easy. And it is gonna be slow.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s