Fears of 4 am.
I am afraid. At 3.50 am in the night I feel deserted. My episodic sanity crumbles in the face of lures...yet again. Each time I am pushed deeper into a sac filled with darkness, a pit getting deeper.. and images dance in front of my eyes. Under the lampshade, in the chilly dull yellow, where a wisp o f cold air pierces my naked chest. I see you roughing up with bodies. Tall lean and hairy ones. And hard. Your thin frame against anothe r. Of the watch, that's the only remnant of covers on skin. Thin fingers mingling into others. Of your eyes that stare like dark secrets, unknown. And silence afterwards. I saw just a bit, now I know. I want to see what others have witnessed. I want to be there when you make love to them. I want to see what you say when my mention comes, or do you even. I want to preserve the look of your eyes then. I want to be a part now. A distant attached part. P.S. Kiss I know those lips have been kissing other lips. And not in the...