Thursday, June 18, 2015


Life ratchets in the closed circle
As i fumble and twitch
Not with the desire to whoosh out
But to breathe, take in
The sperm that begot me
Yet relinquishes letting up
I grab and i suck, suck
On the nothingness of formlessness
Could then my o gape orifice
Be only my instinctual appendage
Or do i seek, by gobbling up your essence
The facsimile that that essence really is
By taking you into myself
Sucking the vitality out of you
I fail, fail to recapture the primal
From whence i emerged
Finding, instead a blank space
Where even my desire to possess,
To be possessed, dissolves
Into the oblivion of non being
Desire may be what i thought i felt
Or how you gauged my hunger
But what i crave, need, yearn for
Is not your prick but your soul through that prick.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015


My love,
I find your formlessness liberating. But i know that were i to give form to your unknown quantity on an individual i would find him inadequate. Because more than anything you are a conglomeration of abstractions. In a sense you are also inchoate. But i don't have the energy to transmute you on to anyone. Yet the impulse towards love, the neediness underlying it , induces a certain volition
As a teenager i was besieged by hormones. I saw a prick and that's all i saw. Though i did imbue the objects of my desire with the paraphernalia of popular romance. Underneath that was the concupiscent impulse, fucking, mindless fucking. You still lived on, tremulously ,at the back of mind but desire superseded imagination. And imagination became inseparable from fantasy. My sweaty erotic dreams were insufficient recompense for the voracious sexuality that burgeoned in me.
He fucked me in the chemistry lab. He was from afghanistan, a hairy brute but devilishly handsome. I had spent incessant nights dreaming of him. That day as i worked on test tubes he undid my pants and forced his dick into my ass. It was immeasurably painful, a brutal visitation of aggressive flesh onto my tender one. My mind was a kaleidoscope of simultaneity that moment though i could only capture it in retrospect. Yes it was rape, unmitigated rape but had i, by imaginatively constructing this scenario in my head for endless nights, neutralized its cataclysmic implications. And this actualization of my fantasy, arbitrary and unexpected as it was, revealed the inherent dangerousness of a scenario where the fantasy became a reality. I was startled and yet there was something pleasurable in this pain. The inveterate victim in me thrilled at the possibility of plaintive grievance this would engender. And later, when i reconstructed this experience i considered alternative scenarios wherein i could exercise a certain autonomy. But the experience shook me and reminded me that desire and actuality could be incongruous , that violence and sex were inextricably intertwined and that sex was about emotion too. My emotional numbness when he raped me, with the accompaniment of bodily pain, induced a stasis, a void that i cocooned myself in.
It was then, as the salad days of adolescence came to a crushing halt , that i extracted your essence from my unconscious and conceptualized it. The jigsaw of your qualitativeness accumulated as attributes accrued. But though you were a blueprint i still believe you exist. A german singer is currently the conduit through which my fantasies of you are projected. What i see of him is the performative self he conjures up on television. And it is this unreality, which could, after all be a subterranean reality, that makes him a focus on my idea of you . Will i ever meet him, will i experience that kiss as his trimmed silken beard caresses my cheeks. It all remains indeterminate but hope is what i live on and for.
Loving you, always and forever

Monday, June 15, 2015


My love,
I know you yet don't know you. While you remain a abstraction that is densely distilled in my consciousness i can't compress this nebulousness into a form. The more i try to capture you, the more your essence dissolves. I hold this essence of you close in my heart. It is a formless essence, an amalgam of disparate bits of emotions, features, lineaments i put together in a patchwork mosaic. Perhaps this is your reality, this irreducible indeterminacy.
I give form to you in the countenances of those i see. A gay activist in the city, a german singer, a british actor all become fused into this essence of you i can't articulate yet intuit. Each man i meet becomes a mnemonic , an arabesque. And each time i mistake the part for the whole. It is an inescapable part of love, this inconclusiveness because ultimately i can't bear cohering your mysteriousness into a single form. Nor can i date and fuck a phalanx of men who would become disembodied remnants of your essence. No i don't want to slough you off but i can't seem to find you anywhere either. Maybe you don't exist and i made you up.
But even if i made you up i still believe you exist. Else why does my imagination constantly add bits and bobs to you, fluffing you out. Your essence is immutable but the accoutrements change. Darling whether you had a stubble or a beard or were clean shaven, whether you had a six pack or were a middle aged revenant or in your sixties i would always love you. The iridescent shimmer of drops of water on your pectorals, the coruscating rasp of your beard or the clean astringence of your aftershave would seduce me irresistibly. What is outward form but an integument and at different times i transform the coordinates of my desire. What remains unchanged is you.
I prefer you this way, as an amorphous ,unknown being. I conjure endless permutations of you. In the void of our inexistent togetherness i give you myriad forms and shape multifarious narratives. It all comes back to you, though and your ineffable mystery. That is where it all begins and that is all it leads up to. Meanwhile i play the game of forms, the charade of the external. And i wait , hopelessly, haplessly and expectantly for you to materialize and give me that magic kiss.
Loving you, always and forever.