processing the hopeful fire, day three

Woke up thinking about You and the fear of what's ahead at war with the possibilities of it all. What ifs are just that, potential. What I know for sure I can give is honesty. Wherever I can take you, it will have to, and will be honest and interesting.

I'm feeling good about myself. Motivated and inspired. Work flows easier by being outside my house.

It might very well be that I'm driven to throw myself into uncertainty in order to keep sharpening my internal sense of structure, as if myself (or part of myself) is made to and only happy with making sense of chaos.

There's an entire ocean of sensitivity and arousal between me and You. Just the hint of its waves crashing makes me aware of a gargantuan desire to have you so completely, I can feel the prelude to pain and pleasure in my skin. This is not something I can handle safely yet. Speaking of it or alluding to it so far away in time and space is just inviting madness, a frustration without release. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after.

The day went by. The work went well. You came back from your holidays and you were alone. We talked over the wire. We talked a lot. There's something to our back and forth that feels so good.

You got home, we called each other up. An instant goes by in a couple of hours. We'd stay at it the whole night trying to get to a destination that is impossible to arrive at. 

We said our goodbyes for today. I burn in desire.

I listen to Bruce Springsteen with an empty in my belly, and a certainty that my life is shifting.