Afraid of becoming invisible to myself, I hide away and write some words which contain small flecks of what I have seen. Writing is what makes me who I am which is terrifying but some of us were born with words for lungs and stories for breath and there’s really not much else we can do but shut the door and bleed. Much of it is junk and thus the self loathing begins but once in a while I catch the tail of something worthwhile even as it’s trying to escape me. I hold tight. There is uncertainty as often as there is distraction, such is the way of shifty things you can’t predict. The hallways of my mind lead to dark places where my dreams come alive, where I can watch you from a distance as you flash like headlights across an empty wall. I dance for you. I shed my human skin and move like an angel to heavenly hymns until you can no longer contain your desire. Taking me as your own, the heat in your hardness leaves no more questions. When you’ve had your way with my body, my mouth, my sex, we smoke cigarettes and retreat into perfect silence. There is something mad about you. The way you know just when to speak and when there is more to be said by not saying anything. You are a mystery as shady as any of the ones I map within my bones. Holding hands, we take to the streets, heels clicking as we suck in the balmy night air. Downtown the electric city is a carnival of colored lights and music, voices and laughter sifting out from a lengthy row of outdoor bars. Nights like this are a show, time blurs, fades, disappears. I watch as a beautiful slender girl with rich soft breasts leans into her girlfriend for a kiss, waiting for drinks they tongue and tease each other shamelessly and I am transfixed. Young bodies like supple flowers, wilting and blossoming in pink neon light. Imagining a scene where you are laid down in a forest as several thirsty nymphs surround you and take you to the edge again and again, my mind swells with a buzzing desire for intimate things. I know you see through me. I know that one look in my eyes will tell you all the secrets I try to hide and you will string them out in front of me one at a time. You want my stories, naked, raw, and dripping. When I beg for mercy you don’t for one second let up. The moon is red tonight, the clouds sheer swaths of black as they cover and expose her.