unreality

Who can ever be absolutely certain how they feel with so much worldly dissonance surrounding us? It's almost impossible to listen closely enough to your gut to hear every word of it's garbled language, and I'm not referring to what it says after a lunch of humous and ful.

I'm feeling some sort of strange disconnect that settled in between yesterday and today. An unreality of sort that's governing my emotion. Empty and full, then empty again or maybe full. I can't tell which one I'll be. Last night I dreamed of two bodies, bare, alone in the dark warm night, pushed close against each other, pulsating rhythmically, with a familiar smell that I'm fond of, not the smell of a cologne but something more earthy and natural with a hint of mint toothpaste. The two forms mesh together as if their bodies were only meant to experience each other. I felt him deep inside me. That familiar sensation but without any worry in the world.

We tasted each other and it was a familiar taste that was sweet but not sickly sweet. Each touch felt like tiny firecrackers exploding on my skin. I was in heaven. Pure heaven. But when I pulled tighter what was there disappeared as if it wasn't really there at all and I began to cry, in my dreams I cried so hard that I emptied of the weight that held me to the ground and the wind picked me up and blew me with my eyes closed and tears still falling. The wind blew me through the desert and dried me, leaving me on top of a sandy desert rise, hearing only my echo as I lay prostrate among the scorpions.

What am I doing? I have no idea what I'm doing. What have I done? I have no idea what I've done. The only thing I'm sure of is who I am, and despite my constant embarrassment of myself I'm comfortable with that, but it doesn't ease the pulsing pressure inside me, nor does it relieve the rotorouter working full tilt in my body somewhere underneath my sternum. Why am I crying?