horizon_bodies werewolf even without me i hope you don't have to sleep alone. i remember your body was very warm. i hope it stays that way. you tell me if i don't feel it no one will, the warmth of your neck pulsing rushing off to the universe's edge. but all around your words are the sounds of other people, their scars on their skin. you disarm me when i believe how powerful you make me feel in a sudden moment when we make what was once greater than us strain and fit into our exact bodies, gloving the hands in our eyes in our memories. and is your window always open? open to the world? do i seem a reminder that the darkness is teeming, that there is always a face to forget, always a face to remember. am i briefly the world to you? the reason for windows, and openings. when i have touched you, i have never had the luxury to value something so little as to put it away in my memory, i have never had the luxury of not being hungry at every junction of our skin. later i would ask myself why i hadn't concentrated harder. are emotions like i felt then just too unwieldy to recreate. is more passing through than can ever be caught. do i stand before your body like a thimble before the sea, emptying myself to be filled again, satisfaction as far away as my eyes can see. if we could dream such things, would we ever wake up? longing brings us back outside of ourselves each touch making our memories sacrificially younger. when we are touching, for once we are not starving. we have no need for imagination. there is the unexpectedness of resolution ending nothing. our promises are for once so in tune with our actions that we cease having to make them. 021210 ... jane my blood is a river that flows through my body, the earth can't they see what scars they've placed in my formations that have taken millions of years to evolve what i really am trying to say i want to embody your horizon 021212 what's it to you? who go blather from