disdain

silence

Its hot. Forbidingly so. The sun beating down, washing away alll of the misdeeds of those bold enough to venture out into the white hot downpour. City people. Sweat. Penance.

They all complain. The heat is dangerous, unrelenting. Even in the dead of night, which really no longer exists because they're awake. Tossing and turning, miserable.

I tell them that I like it. The heat. Testify to each that I find it cleansing. Physically, I'm dirty. Persperation and polution clinging desperately to every inch of this body. Inside though, with every bead of seat released, a bit of fog is cleared. Absorbed and carried away by the sun's radiant heat.



I barely slept when we last spent the night together. I wanted to hold him so badly. Seized by a violent desire to push him down on the floor right then and there. But I knew that it would be a wasted effort. Suddenly I found it hard to breathe, and my field of vision narrowed. Time stood still, spinning its wheels. Desire welled up between my legs as wet and as powerful as Niagra Falls. I was confused, bewilered. I tried to get a grip. I breathed in a lungful of fresh air, closed my eyes, and in that incomprehensible darkness I slowly began counting. My urges were so overpowering that tears came to my eyes.

I couldn't touch him. Instead I kept my silence.

So thats how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal the loss, no matter how important the thing that's stolen from us - that's snatched right out of our hands - even if we are left completely changed, with only the outter layer of skin from before, we continue to play out our lives this way, in silence. We draw nearer to the end of our allotted span of time, bidding it farewell as it trails off behind. Repeating, often adroitly the endless deeds of the everyday. Leaving behind a feeling of immeasurable emptiness.