Moving This Satisfying Saturday

Who is she
the ones who moves with such trepidation
towards a saturday
that she arduously craves
with such pain and much love?

She is a music slut

slut
yes I love the insult in that word
once one has called me so
I feel freer than all possible possibilities
and the truly satisfying Saturday has already begun
for I am bound by me and that’s all

An experience junkie if we may add
and then just a restless nomad

so let us begun for the words will detach now and flow in terrible slow abstractness
for time is slow and the lights are dim..

Tip- toe into purple hued rooms,
empty corners of grass and run my fingers over silken leaves.
Then leave me to look for another her

They say Saturdays and Friday nights are the kind of nights when you can catch her
Keep your ears and eyes open and
don’t forget to close them too.
she’s the kind who grazes her lips over yours, while you are barely awake
and fully clothed

But
she’s an impulsive fool
the mind can’t be empty,
it can’t be too well fed either, the hunger hungers  for the new
and she must collect

Collects seemingly mundane specks of light during the day
and craves during the night for her to visit
But what do we do on a Saturday  after work?
When there is nobody looking? Or it’s too blurry to tell
Who you are and where you come from?

fleetingly kept memories of time
are not so fleeting

Rapid  and slow
you’ve entered the light
The light moves
Then comes only shadow
eyes wildly awake staring into the familiar face in the dark
Dilated eyes,
contrcating eyes
and I am restless for she moves about too much
like parched lips and wet water

“There’s no reason to stay at the same  light for too long”

she often says

Move like fluid, inhibited only by the instinct
But this is a very satisfying Saturday and you don’t need your guards up
You’re the huntress and you’re taking it all in
You’ve met her and she tells you that there’s more of us

‘Us’ you clearly hear her say

Rain is the sound of what plays and you know all the eyes.
There’s no need to pause longer than required
We  require the simple whiff of what you give
and take
and I move again
Hold that beat and then rise,
Reluctant and lusting

The buttons
grazing lightly
The liquid has left the bottle
past his hesitant time
past his waking hour

But I hear you
I smell you
I only cannot see you
But I
Hear you breathing closer
Closer  to the nape
and that’s all

under the influence of ~

Kollektiv Turmstrasse – Last Day (David August Revision) and time

img_20170301_011942
photo by Elsa Bleda

 

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