Monday, November 25, 2013


I watch his attempts to inveigle me into his sense of being and i, complicitously acquiesce. I savor the crenellations of his argot and run the words around my tongue, feeling their density. Carillons of agreeable facsimiles emanate from me as i navigate his turf, his interiority. He seems to delight in illumining me, incandescing my sense of the world he lost. Prompted by an unassailable loneliness he seems to delight n dispersing himself onto me. Remnants of his being siphon, diffuse and reaggregate into mine. My willingness to solder predate rational consciousness, pre date categories and is founded upon the unequivocally luminiscent blueprint of love.

Yes i desire him intensely. I susurrate with primeval voraciousness. When striations of sand crumble under my footsoles i experience his chapped lips leaving piquant indentations upon my flesh. The serrated edges of his molars carve seductive incisions on my lips and i feel the warmth of his presence traverse the runnel of my back. When i run my fingers through the creases of his skin, or pucker with my fingertips the scars life deals him i hear from the depth of him profound intensifications of love felt and sated. I sample the ambrosia he expends like a sacrament and feel come over me the blessed purity of love. The waves lap at my feet, the empty expanse of nothingness around me duplicates its blankness but amid this primordial wilderness my only certitude is his love.

Sometimes slivers of self doubt insinuate themselves spectrally. With him the sensation of dissolution and oblivion alternate. He is a mirror reflecting to me a blueprint that i seek to actualize. Often i want to mold myself into the forms he shapes around our togetherness and am assailed by spasms of bitterness because my inchoate indeterminacy is being reconfigured into civilized structures of knowingness.

But i suspend disbelief, or rather surmount it. It is palpable that he wouldn't feel what he feels if he weren't similarly displaced. The exiguity of expediency brought our love into being but our intrinsic selves ratified it. Our integuments quiver with anticipation as we affirm what we behold. I ,of course, am a tabula rasa. My ontology is unknown to me but that unanswerability materializes becoming. In the absence of atomizing my parthenogenesis i merge seamlessly with what i see. Does this abrogation signify negation? In retrospect, no. Because while my constituents are reconstituted the being i become, the selfhood i existentially and experientially conceptualize and crystallize remains certain. 

He talks of going back to his homeland. He speaks of this odyssey which he expects me to share. I am aware that a part of him longs for a convergence with a life history severed him from experiencing and that part of what he feels for me is an undifferentiated impulse, transmuted into my being. And that the homecoming would familiarize him with that he had so perilously relinquished. And that leaves me in a lurch because while in this luminous seascape, with the roiling waves and the meagre life we share, i am his fulcrum i would, with his return, be cast aside or perhaps indulged as an extension of certain dimensions he inhabits. In the penumbra of the dwindling town, bustling, bourgeoisie, which i conceptualize so vividly, i would become nugatory. But while my love for him, compounded of loneliness, would stir and churn i would also, through a similar transference, better my own lot, carve my own being. These intersecting contradictions buffet me as our departure looms imminent but i celebrate, through him, the gift of my own sense of self he bestowed on me. The mirror will show me many realities that i glimpse only subterraneously but it is the prospect of my iridescent countenance beaming back at me, filled with the plentitude of human love, the love of like for like, that will sustain me. And with the opalescent sun, trudging out, i hug this arabesque and remain singularly blent with the inexhaustibly rich kaleidoscope of human variegation.

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