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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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Loving the King of Boys
I was in love all those days and nothing made sense. Spring played at the edge of madness and I doubted the strength of my heart to resist its pull. In the rustle of trees were the raw tales of love between mortals and deities, and the wind whispered unceasingly to me of desire. I could feel the grave tug of life through every substance�blood and brick, glass and flesh�could imagine the year�s first warm kisses of sun, tempered still by winter. The days balanced on equivocal edges, silent and frightening and beautiful, innocent and obsessive, and there was the necessary wondering at the utility of this skin. I�m crazy in love these days, in love with life and the King of Boys and with these spring days that are reminding me that my heart is still functioning in that heart-breaking way of its. I feel raw, skinned, everything hurts and amazes me and I love it. These are some of the most awake days I�ve had in a long, long time. I want to cry all the time. I want to shout it out. I want to roll down hills like I used to when I was a child. I want to be a child again. I am a child again. King of Boys� love is transforming. I will never be the same. Until the next time, I mean.
More lies:
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