bensonater
Awake, reclined, perching at bedroom window, watching a man rake, cloudy, chilly, hot coffee, warm thoughts and god I miss you. There's a fire between my knees and I have no strength to resist.
One over the other, one under the next. One step at a time, little by little and row by row, exponentially growing and growing. They tell me it's easy if I take my time. I'm preparing my loom. I'm busying my fingers. I'm nervous. I'm going to fuck this up and have to start all over again. I'm bad at this. I need a new hobby that won't hurt.
Fwwwomp Thump Sswwwwp Thump Fwwwwomp Thud. Thud ka-thumpthump. I imagine your shoulder braces my head, allowing anchor to the heaviest part of me sinking and shifting into your frame. And I feel so strong but physically incapable. Putting my fists into the air above us, connect them with my pointers and turn my wrists, giving my fist lungs animated flight. I don't even know how out of breath I am until I try to talk. I'd leave one up in the air and squeeze it hard and fast, over and over again. Simulated heart. I wonder what size it is compared to my hand and too many things to mention. Guess what I can feel my fingernails in my palm hen wI do this! My new routine is working out