Tuesday, July 23, 2013

The Part of You That's Soft

I really don't care
what a freak you may be
or what you’re capable of in bed.
I'm not out to prove
How wild I am
Or how powerful.
All that shit is for the birds.  
Flocks and flocks of birds.  
Flocks and flocks of flocks and flocks and flocks of...

That's not the way to my heart.  
That fizzles out in ten seconds.  
That will come soon enough
with time,
and no effort.  

There's so much more of yourself to see.

I wanna see the part of you that's soft.
I wanna sift through all the programs and
exciting
cockiness
and peel away your layers until I get
to the soft part.

The part of you that wants to shy away
and hide
that turns pulsing red when seen
if not approached
gradually
and delicately
and reverently.  
But that secretly and deeply wishes
to be seen
and experienced 
gradually, delicately, and reverently.

And I can see you
And I call upon you
now

That's the part of you I'm after.  
That's the part of you that has amnesia.  
No.  
That's the part of you that 
Never
knew.  

The part of you that never stores
heavy molecules
of
in-form-ation.  
The part of you that can never find a way to
cease
being
a virgin.  
The part that
cannot
be
adulterated.  

Here, you can be felt and seen,
but never lost.  
Not unaffected, but just so
absolutely
timeless
and secure. The part that knows it is
everything,
yet
still
wonders.  

Our vulnerability will be devoured in the
reflections of ten
thousand
mirrors.

In this place, "you" stop being,
"I" stop being.  
All there is to do is remember creation.  
To create each other,
to forget the idea,
altogether,
of
"each other".

Finally penetrating into the heart of the moment,
so deep beyond the dried out,
hardened
fixed skins
and into
the bleeding veins.

You don't even comprehend what
"wide open"
means.  
You maybe never even felt yourself
as God.  
Because you thought it would feel
so dominant
and all-powerful

Now you're here,
and instead you are surprised that you feel
like a child.  

You realize there is nothing to prove.  
You can be experienced without
trepidation,
expectations,
or bitterness.  

You feel so perfect.  
The blockiness of time disintegrates
into the high-out-of-your-mind
flowingness
of losing
yourself.

Be not worried
about
competing
  
Be not worried
about
turning out or
being turned out,
when ego interplay
ultimately
becomes
superfluous,
and will make way for the actual meaning
of the word:

Ecstatic

And I promise,
it's nothing like what you think.

Come away.  Let go of yourself.  
All that other shit is for the birds.  

Allow your layers to be peeled away,
beautiful onion that you are,

to the freshest most untouched
virgin
terrain
bringing
tears
losing
it self
with
abandon.

-Laura




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