?

"I knew him!", I shouted, I screamed at the faceless presence, "I knew him, I opened his veins, I felt his blood flow over me. The knife felt unreal in my hand and I knew him thoroughly then, more completely than anyone!" I couldn't feel anything, my body's fibers unfurled, eaten up by the vastness of the present universe.

Beginning of short – dream sequence

"It's cold. Outside, I think." Here it comes again. I was standing up against the window. I could feel the cold of the glass radiating out. My face felt warm, the inside of my nose, the backs of my eyes. "No, it's not." The outside started to catch up with the rest of me. It was sticky, it was humid, it was holding me down. The window was gone, it was night. I could feel her before she came fully out of the darkness. We were on this field, the grass was dry and rough, and there was this string of lights dying behind us. They were clear, their filament visibly burning. It was soft. It was romantic.
She was standing there, naked, with heavy breasts, her hips wide, open. As I stared at her – the angles of her hip bones, her soft thighs, the stretched, abysmal navel – it occurred to me that it all begins in blood. All life does. From the start, women's bodies are covered in it. And so was she. It was spread over her body like chocolate: translucent in places, like over that navel, and tempting.
Presently I run my hand over her weighty breast, slick and warm. I feel the hard nipple, taste it with my tongue, feel the shudder as it crawls down my spine and the push, the yearning of my abdomen, my hips as I push up against her, touch the small of her back as I bring her to me.
I wanted her, desperately, I needed her, but I didn't know why. It was compulsion. And she was sexy, a siren, calling me to her salvation, but it could have been anyone that came, and she would have received them all.

(To be continued)

On the bus

Here was this girl - tiny, with these soft brown orbs staring straight up as she tilted her head back. Her baby-fine dark brown hair was put up in pig tails with two different colored bands. She smiled so fully, so much without self-consciousness, that it made me smile dumbly and impulsively at her. She won't remember this time in her life. One day, with the same hands, the same eyes, she'll have her heartbroken, or feel such ecstasy, such delight, such sorrow, or so much of something that her body will pulsate with it. She'll grow into this person that will have this normal life. Stranger still, we were all once this little girl. I'm still so detached from my own humanity, I think we all are, that I can't recognize my own growth, can't imagine it, am only aware of being, of only ever being.