Known unnamed.

The hidden spin of the ball. The lasting memory of a note. Wind floating along a cheekbone.

The hum of the electrical wires, connecting towns with cities with nature.

I’m looking for inspiration, a part of existence so unlike anything else. A feeling, but more than that. A directive to action. A call to arms and hands and fingers holding pens. A call for eyes to be drawn, and drawing.

Oh how I long to be on that childhood ocean of my waking dreams, able to feel the movement of the waves whenever I close my eyes. Having a ‘place’ to ‘go to’.

I have devolved, I feel. Have devolved into a consumer, looking for a new entertainment-fix. Too rarely closing my eyes to find the inspiration I have picked up. I have no doubt that I pick up more inspiration these days, but I fail to do anything with it.

I neglect my writing.

I neglect my thinking as I pace through weeks and months.

I promise myself ‘tomorrow will be different’. But I know tomorrow doesn’t come for another week. Two weeks.

Summer will once again toast my cheeks, will once again inspire me to go out and feel the sting of the grass, listen to the rattling of the leaves, taste the sweet fruits growing beneath the Golden Sun.

Once again taste lips, because what else is there for lips to taste but other lips tasting back. A most egoistical sharing where survival is equal to collision. Where orbits are broken and new galaxies form. Where matter becomes energy, heard half a world away in the hum of electrical wires.

We can be known unnamed.

Advertisements

You’d look good in somebody’s arms.

There are such varied ways of loving and showing love. A smile. A hand on the shoulder. A kiss. 

I think I’m quite unconventional. I tend to love fully and from the start regardless of where things are going. I see someone that I like and I instantly start seeing us together doing things. Walking. Sitting. Eating. Lying around in bed. Having conversations.

I like to think about these things. I like to think about kissing. But when it comes down to it, I actually don’t really like kissing all that much. I like the closeness of it, but I feel that closeness whenever I lock eyes with someone I could love. Kissing always feels… artificial to me. Forced, perhaps.

I’d rather just lie down beside a person, tracing fingers along each other’s arms and foreheads, looking into those eyes across from my own. That’s intimacy to me.

It’s the same with sex as with kissing. I like to imagine it, thinking about the situation, but when it’s happening I rarely feel like it’s something too special. Again I’d often rather take it back a notch. At the same time I really like naked bodies. I don’t know if it’s the look of them (definitely sometimes) or more the revealing of something kept so well hidden (also a great candidate). Whether one reason or the other, I like them, but in the same way as with the rest: to just lie beside each other naked, feeling each other, feeling the tension, the heat. Tracing fingers, tracing what-ifs along the other’s body.

I think I may have some asexual tendencies in me. Or maybe I just hold the initial tension in extremely high regard and always feel a bit underwhelmed when it’s traded in for sex and kisses.

The most constant feature of my life is the flirting. Is there anything better than flirting? I love the smile it causes when you find someone who wants to play along. Innocent flirts; flirts that might lead to something; ironic flirts; flirts with people who really shouldn’t flirt, or at least their girl/boyfriend thinks they shouldn’t, but can’t help themselves; other taboo flirts etc. As long as it’s just a flirt you can try out most things, and you can really get to know other people.

It’s a bit silly I’ve decided (capital D, Decided) never to go on dating apps like tinder. I expect that to be the primary source of flirtatious people nowadays, but I don’t like the concept. It feels staged. Artificial. Like a kiss. It’s the new custom.

I prefer the flirt to come about naturally (or, as naturally as anything involving people ever comes about). I often end up flirting with my friends. It has its disadvantages, surely, but at the same time I really like the kinds of friendship it creates. I feel very close to my friends. Probably closer than they feel to me. I rarely go a day without thinking about six or seven of my closets friends, keeping conversations in my head whenever I’m not speaking with them.

That sounds a bit mad. I probably am a bit mad. Who isn’t. That’s just the easiest way for me to think about things, putting it in a dialogue. I use it to almost anything. From passing some time to figuring out what to write in an assignment, I make a fictitious dialogue in my mind with a friend and the problem gets solved.

Sometimes I go too far in my love of flirting and my expectations of dialogue. Since I work out the entire conversation in my head, I feel disappointment when the real thing doesn’t live up to what I had thought it would be. Reality is rarely how I imagine it.

You should have stayed a dream. You should have stayed a stranger.

Sometimes I don’t go far enough. When it’s finally looking like something that could become more than just a flirt, I’m confronted with the kisses and the sex and the world of thoughts on whether I can ever live up to my flirting self. I’m a master at very inelegantly removing myself from such situations.

I should try to go through with it more often. See what it can lead to. See if I can let you in. See if we can write a winter song. Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on.

In which I have tears in my eyes. Forever.

What are we even doing here? Why do we keep on keeping on? We could just go to the shadows. We could hide from the gaze of the Sun. We could disappear. Forever. We could be the dark side of the Moon, always shying away from the Earth. They would have to build a space shuttle to find us, and if they did, we would jump away from them. Forever.

It’s always the same. Whenever I close my eyes, it’s just you and I. It’s the world behind us, the waves in front of us. It’s a stellar fairytale, where oxygen is of no importance. Don’t you see? We can breathe love. We can eat kisses. We can drink tears of joy. Forever. We don’t need no safety belt out here. Just hold my hand, and I’ll drift where you drift, and I’ll see what you see. And we’ll be in this together. Forever.

Space invaders.

We’re letting the wind in tonight. That chill ocean wind that has traveled, as if on a mission, across the great Atlantic to get to where we are. We’re letting the stars in tonight. We’re opening the windows and letting their light shine down on us; that light that has been seen by all living creatures near us in our galaxy. We’re letting the wind and the stars in tonight, and with them the immensity of it all. Oh how we breathe air all the time, 7 billion people breathing in once every fourth second, oh how much air there must be on this Earth, yet how small this Earth is compared to the vastness that is the Universe. And we look at each other, and we nod, and we don’t say a thing, for amongst all these creatures we two are created as one, and we communicate without the spoken word, we just look and understand, look and know that we are not alone, that somewhere out there, there are others like us. Creatures dreaming of the sky they see above them. That is the great similarity from here to the Moon and beyond: the starlit sky. Oh to be without it. To be on a planet run wild, lost from its solar system; its galaxy. To be still alive and dreaming, but seeing nothing, nothing at all. What would life out there be like? What wicked darkness reigns in such places? The first question: is there any such thing as eternal nothingness? Can it keep you trapped? Oh how we long for answers and how ill-equipped we are to answer them, even with our eyes, our understanding of each other we only know so much. We only know of the earthly delights; of the twosomeness. We only know what we have seen and heard. And we feel joy as well as despair that we should have been spared the knowledge of the eternal nothingness; of what comes with a darkness like that; what twisted ways mankind might act when given no light at all. Might mankind turn against itself? Seeing each other not as brothers and sisters but as enemies to the little light that might someday find its way into the eyes of the mortal? Might mankind be so confused, so enwrapped in its own quest of finding the border between dreams and reality, that it could harm mankind? If darkness prevails, and there is no hope of ever seeing the blink of an eye again, might mankind end up so crazy from the lack of light that mankind might kill mankind? Is that the true power of the light; the power to keep the most evolved of the Earth’s species alive and loving and well? And we would nod; we would look at each other and nod and fear the darkness between the lights on the sky above us, if it wasn’t for our shared knowledge that it takes far less for mankind to kill mankind; that it only takes an argument, and sometimes not even that, for mankind to kill mankind; that it only takes a weapon, and sometimes not even that, for mankind to kill mankind; that it only takes mankind for mankind to kill mankind. And suddenly the dark skies above seem not so frightening, seem instead almost forgiving – hopeful. The dark skies above seem like an opportunity, an area of infinite magnitude where a place made for the peaceful must be locatable. The Earth is uninhabitable now mankind has been everywhere and forced its system on everyone. The Earth is uninhabitable now mankind is no longer continuing the work of art that is nature, but only selling it and destroying it. The Earth is uninhabitable now mankind is tearing it apart, piece by piece, limb by limb. The Earth is uninhabitable now mankind is killing mankind is killing mankind is killing Earth. The Earth is uninhabitable now mankind has made it so. And we look at each other and we dream and we sigh, for our dreams are only that: dreams. And we kiss, and in our kiss we share the hope for the Earth, for the dreamers, for the remains of humanity – for great and powerful parts of mankind are no longer humane. And in our kiss we make a promise: to be the best we can be; to live the fullest lives we can. And in our kiss we twist and turn the world and want to turn mankind into kind-man. And in our kiss potential arises and flows around the room, and it seeps through our open window, traveling out where the air and light came in.