once again, once more...
is it that in a few hours i will be faced with distinguishing imagination from reality?
is it that in a few hours i will not know even what i know now?
what is it that i project onto you that makes these emotions so strong?
"i have been here before!"
(i was fourteen then, and never had the damn courage to look at it straight in the face for what it is)
scared!
plain scared.
not of being naked and bared of pretense...
no, being naked never scared me,
losing pretense is the first step to freedom...
still, i am scared.
for that which the poetry sketches like a smoke signal or a magic scent,
there is the prose that will dissect it, analyze it, resynthesize it, and rationalize the whole of it.
no stone will be left unturned.
"yet when he asked, she looked into his eyes, tears rolled... she said that she was not in love, no, not in love. she said that she was not falling in love."
now i can hear the surf caressing the beach and i looking out west, the sun in my back, and past the marina, past the posh villas, past it all, i kept on thinking that what i need is to look beyond and far...
how i miss the sand in between my toes, and the annoyance of getting rid of it before putting on shoes!
i feel like a bee collecting pollen from all sorts of wonderful blossoms... one prettier than the next...
if this is a dream, i do not want to wake up. no, never!
i fear that this is a dream, and that on waking up even the memories will be gone.
mes faiblesses!
