The fire of pure desire [eng — poetry]
The trip was almost gone
I lay silently in bed
fully dressed
staring at wooden ceiling
he turned some music on
and softly danced with himself
I asked what song it was
he said “cosmic dancer
by t.rex”
my head started slowly
drawing eights
and nines
in the air
thoughts were so silent
finally.
As he lay next to me
fully dressed
they immediately became louder
I thought “I wish I could kiss you
I wish I could be with you
or with anyone
just be with
closeness
it feels like the ability of closeness
is kilometers away from me
now
of course it’s just a phase
be with him
or with anyone
just be
I feel so alive
but so trapped
in my own body”.
“The fire will burn everything”
he said
“what?”
“the fire
of pure desire”
I know he didn’t mean “our” fire
or “us”
he didn’t mean anything at all
besides of what he said
it was his superpower
among others.
I was dancing when I was twelve
I danced myself into the tomb
I was so lucky these days
waiting for the fire.
Beautiful talented men
popped up around me
like mushrooms
in august woods
some of them were closer
so close I can’t stand it
some — distant
Milano
California
like a promise of
adventures
like a whisper
of my new name
Chelsea
or Sarah
or Gloria
doesn’t matter
but for now even my own
soft and silly name
was too much.
Lately
the girl with pure eyes
and cruel hand
made a hand poke tattoo
on my leg
and in between of
her accurate little bites
I dreamed of the word “me”
that falls into the tiniest pieces
and disappears.
Now my poor Ego
poor Self
I love you I thank you
but you have to rest
I also love donuts
pastel de nata
flowers
words
dresses
fake eyelashes
telling people I love them
but I can’t let them guide
not words
not flowers
not you
my favorite 27 years old toy.
Each night before I fall asleep
I feel so happy to be alive
(sorry for the commonplace)
even if it was a shitty day
and it’s not some kind of practice
some fucking meditation
from books or lectures
of some green eyed philosopher
some fucking lady psychologist
dressed in beige sweater
or some home grown guru
covered with silver bracelets
and coconut oil
more likely it’s a
momentum trembling
blowing up my body with
ready-to-die gratitude
& the ocean of pure desire
filling my bed
desire which speaks to everything
not knowing a single word
there is no Sarah
no Chelsea
no Gloria
no Dasha
no songs
no men
when they’re all gone
I can wake up
but will I?
summer 2020