He is SO beautiful. I can hardly stand it. Tall, big, so big, with eyes that could start a riot. He moves like he could any moment reach over and snuff me out. His limbs are strong, lithe, big and notty, his arms indignant at their confinement to his t-shirt. I feel I could die in his vicinity.
I want to die, to get closer.
When will he give himself to me?
When can I submit to this bestial slab, or it to me?
A smile plays across his face like a thousand grass heads nodding in the wind in knowledge of something they should not know. It moves slowly from the fleshy corner of his large well-shaped mouth towards the middle, playing down along the tubes of meat, and for a moment the mouth half opens, breathless, moist
and quickly closes again
as the smile curls onwards to the other side of his face.
Under that nose, that impudent fleshy nose that lands so many punches, takes so many knocks, misshapen, tough, ugly and yet beautiful - that nose is a narrative, a complex space of memories, a countless retelling of encounters - under that nose the jaw sits in judgement, sallow, tight, hard, straight...
My desire for him is like a razor sharp incursion ino my being, a stick, a shove, a thump, a slap an intrusion.
Stung by my desire for him I turn and face the window. I hear him breathing I smell him sweating I know he is moving and I fear that more than I fear anything.
He is going to hit me...
the wolf is upon me...
I call him solitude.