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It has nothing to do with your willingness to make believe, or what you 'choose' to see.
You become more than merely yourself, and what was merely yourself will be forever changed...
It's magic in the truest sense, a conceptual or denotative prestidigitation, not the manipulation of perception, but of actual internal reality, of awareness.
It's a joyful giggling stumble through doors you could never have kicked down or jimmied open on your own, into bright rooms full of wings of wax and feathers on the brightest, warmest, Summer's day.
Because nothing feels better than that kind of falling.
Than the terminal velocity of a shared orgasm.
And then, eventually,
like everything else,
it ends,
but if it was
something close to true;
it ends without ending.
And afterwards, if you like, if you really need to;
you can always take solace in the fact that even on your own
you were, still, always,
going to crash into the ground.
- COMMENTS
lorencinoover 14 years agoMentioned in <i>New Poetry Recommendations</i> today.
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I liked it overall but feel that it is a work in progress with massive potential.
