time travels

I have never,

felt so surreptitiously wrapped in everything touchable, tangible

than to be in this moment, and to feel

what I felt, long, long time ago.

And I can't tell, if it's now or yesterday,

or the after effects of a yesteryear

that has brought all this momentum to this second,

and I'm swinging.

Swinging, forever

and ever, and ever

into the depths of what I don't know and what I don't care to know.

I know it pours out of me like some poor pitcher's laments,

but the brows

oh, the brows --

drawn on with the kohl and falling, limber

over the sides, washing away everything, 

and I'm to be,

the last bit of it all, 

and I know. I promise, I do;

but at this minute I am stillborn in silence

and I cannot ask for more

than to feel.

Feel, feel again,

the beautifully bolded outlines

of nus, maladroit corps

stirring the folds of opium-tinted warmth

and I softly, quietly, unravel.