Making love

I set the mood. I light the candles. Burn the incense. The lights are dim and... soomething sweet is playing in the background. Maybe, like tonight, it's some Jilly from Philly. Something with a lot of piano. I'm preparing myself for the magic. (Maybe some sax in there, too).

So, I sit back and relax every part of me that I can. That feels good. Good in my skin - and now I feel ready to seduce... to touch that smoothness with my words and, complete it. Make it whole. Move my fingers over the surrface I am about to cover with my everything. Not a single part will be untouched by me, I want to give it everything I have tonight.

I want to be opened out and emptied. I want to be stripped naked. I want to be taken over by my own desires. I want to get... those... juices flowing. In and out and all around me. Working myself up and letting out all those frustrations.

The release makes me throw my head back, it's almost too intense. Too good. How do I process everything? And I just can't stop. The music that was in the background, is now in my head along with all those thoughts. Damn.

I love being this lost in my own passion. Uncontrollably lusting over... well, the thing that I most connected to. Who knew that putting pen to paper and scrawling my thoughts could feel so good? I am unashamedly allowing my mind to make love to this notebook that I enticed into my lap, using this pen that I carefully selected and hold with such certainty.

I set the mood... to write.

Prototype

The one. The prototype. The person that ignites fear in you when you lock eyes and they hold their gaze. Eyes burning to you, but it feels so good because you know that look is only for you. So intense you want to withdraw completely and escape. Run away from them just so they can pull you right back in like the first time.

So caught up in their essence you have forgotten who you are. Their touch is on your tongue and your buds are numb for it. And when you daydream about how they kiss, touch, taste, feel... it's all so vivid and real that you feel the tingle in your tummy and your shoulders drop to relax, because they've got you.

Your music becomes a part of how you see them now. When you trace your fingers over their body, you're writing out lyrics which are synonymous with how you view them, and how you want them to view you.

Your own anticipation overwhelms you. You don't like feeling so consumed, but you do. This is your way out of reality. Your thoughts are scrambled and every day life seems so daunting if it doesn't involve them. And you wonder if they're experiencing the same feelings that you are and if that is why, when your lips lock, you feel so complete. Passion surrounds you both, you're over indulgent, and when the two of you are as close physically as two people can be, it still isn't enough.

You're almost in disbelief. How is it that lips can feel so perfect against your own? And how is that hands, like your own, feel new every time they touch you? Make you pulsate. Steal your sensibility.

Everything is them, and they truly are everything... that you wished for certainly. Exclusively your idea of perfection and all yours, isn't that what we all want? Need? The prototype.

WOMAN

W - We are what we are. Whipped into shape and worn down. Wilted, but strong-willed, and we continue on our journeys, unmindful of our own struggles because we don't have time for sympathy. We are women.

O - One. We all are. Too much to get over and yet only we know, only we acknowledge our history and our present. And they all look on at us - the mothers, sisters, daughters and friends. They look on at our ways of life and they cast their eyes and judgements all at once, the blame game.

M - Man. We don't despise you, for you are part of us. What we want more than anything is for you to drink from our womanhood, our very essence, absorb it with your minds and love it. Us. Understand our meaning and our minds and make yourselves at home in our motherland.

A - And yes we all are, active. Autonomous, an entity of our own, not seeking validation or approval. Moving with the ages and with grace, we assert ourselves now. Act upon our desires, and aspire to be... more than you ever hoped we would.

N - No more of this. Not another word. Know that we dont care for your nonsense anymore because know exactly who and what we are. We are women. One. Woman.

(I performed this piece in May at my friend's event called The Scratch Night, in Birmingham. Check their blog out too http://maiacreatives.wordpress.com/)

Meditations

Incense fills the air. I can feel the delicate clouds of smoke passing through all areas of my physical and floating along my brain, tickling my heart with its overpowering thickness and depth. I am so aware of my body, with every breath I can feel the smoothness of it without using my sense of touch. As I breathe out I can feel the hairs stand up and catch the incense smoke. Not to miss a single bit, this is the greatest high. It's in my head, in my heart and all over me. Badu is singing to me softly in the background, something about how love can make it better... She's right. She's faint now, I can hear and feel my heart beat in my eyes. My breath is so silent I'm not even sure I'm breathing anymore. I have left my body, I can see it and feel its light and, using my mind's power... I am freeing myself of the negativity which dims it. The leeches of life, the darkeners of light, those thoughts which douse my flame. I am sucking them in, and blowing them out. I am powerful in this state, I am invincible, I am aware. How is it that I can know my body so well without being inside it? I have opened myself up and emptied myself out. I feel free, elated, careless...

This is everything, this is the ultimate high.