sab_fyn_the_light_was_wrong fyngula i felt her watching me. the invisible sun cast its insensitive morning light, revealing the bitter truth of my vulnerable humanity. the minotaur's mask removed. stripped down to the elementary me. the person she would pass by on the street and not even notice. i see her costume discarded beside mine. we are a car crash after insurance information has been exchanged, side by side the autos rest, damaged, with frost on the cracked windscreen and rust eating away the hidden underbellies. she sits up, bringing the stained sheet with her to cover her voluptuous nakedness. our eyes meet for a brief second, only long enough to recognize the dicomforting heat not caused by the room's humidity. a moment in our temporary oblivion that we chose to create and now share. a fact, even if by circumstance, by collision. asteroid into planet. weedseed upon the fertile earth. she quickly shifts. the bed creaks. inadvertantly i see her backside to where her ass remains hidden. there is a tattoo of words. a quote perhaps? or something she composed herself? it was not only the wine speaking last night in the sensual darkness of the intimate pub. i remember everything. her intelligence. her sardonic wit. her grandiose plans for the future. she made me laugh and i did so not only to see her perfect teeth. her hair, damp with sweat, hangs limply, disheveled, on her shoulders. it was the first thing i noticed when we met. a halo on an angel darkened by black potential, framed by silver piercings flashing like stars in all the available light. constellations in a universe i longed to explore. and her exposed flesh. creamy white alabaster torso, carved by a god who has favored me. her arms are columns that support an obvious foreign beauty. her sigh is a revelation. she waits for my response. i wait for her. how can i translate the body language she speaks in this instance of borrowed time? this hole we have ripped in the sky? i live now to decipher words not written, verse unspoken. yet, she whispers inside herself and screams deep down within the caverns of her wondering. an inaudible voice calling me forth, out of my decision. 021025 ... sabbie i sigh last night, with the street light shining through the stainglass window in the pub, it coloured his arms, his shirt, his face with a tattoo of light. that was what first made me stop and look, and then later to sit and chat. and walking down that darkened street, arm in arm, the warmth of his body pressed against my side, cheerily weaving towards every puddle we could find... last night was a time where reality was suspended and we could just be us. but this morning, this fucking morning, found who were are every day, and it is demanding that of us. i dont get to be faceless, nameless anymore, i dont get to be me without the layers. this morning i have to be me with everything reattached. my head feels heavy. my forehead aches. i rub my face. suddenly im feeling trapped. the air in here is still, the fan is broken. the sheets, the walls, the very light is waiting... waiting... waiting for one of us to break this silence. i shift around to face him. he looks tired, i dont think either of us slept well. he still has the imprint of the cheap pillowcase pressed against his cheek. i want to reach out and touch his face, to run my fingers across the texture of the nights slepp, but i dont. it'll only make this harder, take it into another country all together, add another layer im already drowning under layers. i breathe in. he is wearing a half smile, but i dont know the thoughts behind it. 'umm...' i start ackwardly... fuck, why is this bit always so hard? 021113 ... fyngula "good morning," i said, reaching my hand to touch her face, like i did so many times last night. i had touched her everywhere and often, even if i was simply engaging her in conversation. i was finger to skin as if my thoughts had to travel in an arc of sensual feeling, just to influence her understanding. and i knew this. she felt them one by one, as if our nerves were rivers of satisfaction that our intentions floated upon. i remembered when we fell into bed and the fire of our sudden passion penetrated her, it glowed down there between the fear of consequence and the sensation of undeniable pleasure. we closed our eyes and thought nothing of the morning, only this night when we could taste heaven perfectly. "umm... good morning," she said back to me. i could tell it was difficult, but her hesitation seemed to shrink in the light of my gradual smile which soon swelled when she mirrored my greeting. "did you sleep?" i asked. it was a question that i only asked in an effort to break our uncomfortable silence, hopefully a flower in winter. i did not sleep, at least very little. i wanted to do nothing but touch her. hear her breathing. watch her be with me. "not much," she said, smiling slightly. i sensed the impact of the day that was somehow calling our names. a blind man reaching for our hands in need of guidance. we were limited by the boundaries of our happiness, yet it was holding us to the ground and so painful to let go. "i don't have to go to work today," i said, and it seemed to be a hammer that smashed the wall that was rapidly being built between us. "really?" she said. 021115 ... . . 040205 what's it to you? who go blather from