How nice it feels. To float. Over everything. The nicest feeling is to be floating.
Not stuck to anything. Not caught up. Not aroused by extra excitement. Not erect for the taste to keep you going, to keep you on the straight. Its the best feeling of them all, to be floating.
And the one’s in love. They whinge. And then you will not hear from them for a bit. But then they’ll be whinging again. And you will listen. To be a good friend. But deep inside. You’re glad you’re not them.
I open. I’m convinced that reciprocal love is the icing. I’m convinced of it without knowing it for sure. Who tells me this? Who is it? What is it? Where did I get it from?
This life, it tells me I need it. I should strive for it. This life tells me without it I will not be complete.This life tells me that if I question any of it then I am twisted, and live in fear. This life tells I’m hiding from my real truth if I take shelter.
But I’ve been open. In rawness, in bleeding rawness, I’ve been open. Open to receive. Unveiled and unprotected, I’ve been open for cruelty. Negativity, negativity from the unripe. Humans who haven’t yet come into themselves. I pity them. I love them. My crab claws wanna wash over them, take them in.Their bleeding hearts, their struggling souls. Their projection of anger and frustrations. I wanna help them. I am the gaping opening. The suction. Mumma wine. I suck their venom out and then I’m left with the poison.
I’ve been questioning this quest.Years upon years letting love in, to add the icing. Upon what was really ok to begin with.