Pick Your Poison

(Sustain)

Gratitude is Goddess
and I'm dying to return.

Magic is real
under her wisdom'd eye.

Healing righteous woman,
clears the fog away from Sun.

touch/therapy

**Editor's Note: The following words and phrases are not meant to communicate anything other than an experience that strongly remained within the author's thoughts since its unfolding. All the (parentheses) are meant to convey his current thoughts and analysis in retrospect.**


adrenaline, tactile euphoria, and spiritually overwhelming connections 
all pushed against the membrane of my spirit from the inside, out. 
here i was, freshly returned from utopia and bathed in hope and raw entropy, 
coming back with such passion that no boundaries seemed to stand; 
her a vessel of the absolute, revealing untouchable graces set like sacred stones 
behind a veil of crass wisdom and nearly virgin intention. 

i see now, in my mind's eye, loose vision bubbling to the surface.
removing layers of separtation by ejecting her shirt from 
its comfortable perch on her heaving bosom; 
fires spinning into space; 
sliding down several sets of stairs, mind blank and still writhing in pleasure.
a series of expressions that still fill my mind with wonder 
and my lungs with quick, rasping breath (even so far removed from them in time/space). 

i had entered her abode to share new healings, the kind that sparkle from ones 
fingertips long after words, glances, and pheromones had faded away into the 
inky darkness of times since passed over. 
there was virtually no way 
i could have predicted the intensities that lay before us, short of sacrificing my every 
projection of the future towards the total and perfect surrender of expectation. 


~:~:~

i had climbed the precarious steps of her staircase, 
setting bare feet on her carpeted floor as i walked 
with excitement into her room. 

i remember being overcome with innocent yet ambitious 
hope; to share in some of the new lessons and experiences i had 
brought back from Burning Man, as they had swelled within 
my spirit like fire around tinder and newsprint, 
rising up towards the well-dried wood i'd left to incinerate. 

i had much to share, and even more to question; so i sought 
out the welcoming presence of another artist 
and fellow worshipper of light and reason. 

in a matter of moments, i knew that it was righteous to evoke
something specific, a moment of great healing that i had been lead 
through when i'd needed it most. 


~:~:~

i decided to conduct a healing session utilizing little more than 
my own rampant inspiration and thirty minutes of prior instruction.

i began by seating us facing each other, 
eye to eye, 
wing to wing, 
crossed-legged and comfortable in the room above our kitchen's smells. 

just as i had observed in my first encounter with this form of healing 
(now i can clearly recall my state of mind as i had sat in a different space in front 
of my own wondrous healer a few days before, 
her own words of healing piercing quickly into my soul, these punctures made 
all the more profound by that coy and candid smile creeping up the corners 
of her mouth as the tears fell down my cheeks.) 
i began to lead my friend and co-conspirator through the motions and rhythms 
of what i now know as 'touch therapy' (greatly similar to EFT for those so enlightened). 
fingers danced across our respective scalps, chins, brows, collar bones, 
and all the other points of tactile energy so proscribed by my previous sherpa. 

words seeped out of my chest, echoed and relived by my fellow traveler; 
the flow was stronger than i had anticipated: 
profound conceptualizations of sacred channels, glowing endurances, 
heartfelt motivations, and awakened hopes resounded and reflected 
between these two hearts trapped away in this tiny hidden space 
that only a spiral staircase could reach. 
i would have been amazed with my own ability to focus and continue on
if i had not been so entranced by these words as they filled 
me with a strength i had once thought farcical to expect.
this call-and-response had evolved into a 
call-and-response-and-response-and-call, 
and beyond that, no words can describe the depth of the 
emotions that reared their ancient tusks now to graciously violate
our vulnerabilities, penetrating long-calloused fears without 
shame or any other cosmic hindrance. 

i cannot remember whether there were tears running down her face; 
in either case, i had apparently summoned something of great significance 
from deep inside of her. 
i too felt lighter and heavier than ever before. 

buzzed on the high of eloquence and spiritual epiphany by this point, 
i don't think, in retrospect, i could have left that room just then; 
the session had ended, the final words had filled the room 
and promptly let the silence resume. 
but there was a crackling heat still spinning, 
a fire i was intrinsically inclined to explore.
(i suppose i've found too many fantastic moments of 
sensual pleasure resulting from chaos and uninhibited whimsy 
to ever shy away after such revelations; the mere potential for 
something more finite developing from this interaction kept my 
body firmly planted to the interior of that oddly-shaped room 
that encased her sanctuary. 
my libido had stirred and was now in control, unbeknownst to me.)

looking back, it's hard to imagine myself standing up right then after 
that final blessing, giving her an immense hug, and hightailing my posterior 
back down to the ground floor of the house where i would find my own room. 
i suppose i may have missed another powerful moment, or perhaps 
i would have set myself up for some alternative path now impossible to comprehend.
if i had left, though, i might have saved my future selves a plethora 
of  wonderings and wet dreams; no sense now in conceiving the inconceivable.
in either case, though, i stayed in that room, ready to explore further, (touch), 
play harder, (touch), learn new things, (touch), travel to new levels. 

i suddenly found myself cradling her in my arms, half-naked, 
with the sultry aroma of her own excitement rising up from her loins 
into the thick heat of the air surrounding us.
(had i really removed her shirt so easily and without protest?). 
fingers now danced along new canvasses, skin beckoning 
further sensations, alight with whatever sparkle of inspiration 
spiritual or sensual or somewhere unmapped between them. 

there was no conscious beckoning towards any resolute goal, 
although my reflections point their weary eyes at my own 
unquenchable thirsts for passion and conquest. 
at a certain point all i could smell was her arousal, 
all i could feel was the eventual conjoining of our mutual pleasure. 
i was breathless and primal, pushed into such a state by the 
effusion of our pheromones tangling into something unshakable. 

i had entered the threshold of her dwelling tasked only with 
a mission to revel within the spiritual realm; now i was chained to my spine here 
in the crucible of this aching physicality. 
there was no mechanism of restraint within me strong enough to 
abandon the ancient goals of my physiology, no hesitation 
with enough reason to dissuade my approach of satisfaction. 
for all intents and purposes i was effectively foaming at the mouth, 
waiting to sink in, (hoping to inspire her body to carry my genetic material 
into a new generation), tasting something lush just beyond the limits 
of my experience up until this point. 

it fills me with wonder that i still cannot muster one modicum of shame, 
even when my reflections turn to the outcomes of this brazen incursion. 

we eventually (time is difficult to discern as i replay these moments) 
split from a shared proximity, each collapsing in opposite directions, 
minds still reeling from all the possible paths we had nearly embarked upon. 
i was still unaware of my instinctual motivations to procreate, instead perceiving 
the previous ceremony as one of complete spiritual surrender 
(which it still very much was; such a sweet dichotomy of intentions).

it was then that something otherworldly happened: 
my limbs became engulfed with a kind of fire i had only rarely experienced 
in moments of mind-shattering psychedelic revelry, and every 
tendon, muscle, and vein shot this sacred energy into the palms of 
my outstretched hands. 

i was amazed. 
entranced. 
i felt enlightened, cast into the light of some greater sun than had before been seen. 
utilizing the self-choreographed motions of unlocking the chakra of my heart, 
i watched myself grasp onto this fire, shooting it out through the 
desire-drenched air; it cascaded throughout the room: back into my own palms, 
through her, through the walls, into the sunlight outside, into the atmosphere, 
towards the sun. 
i could sense this sacred fire in sight, feel, taste, and on levels i still have yet to understand. 
and then, after countless seconds saw this unforeseen channel engulfed, 
it was over. 

i was empty, not in the terms of feeling absent or unfulfilled, 
rather in the sense of being squeezed so tightly that all of my 
inner juices had pooled on the floor beneath me. 
i fell back, crumpled mass of a man, now unable to speak 
with any justice of these moments just endured. 

she was still in her own excitement, still brimming over with inspiration 
and that priceless sense of healing i had initially sought to share. 
there was no connection at this point between us; 
i had just orgasmed in ways i had not considered possible, 
whereas she was only getting started. 

after some time, i regained my ability to speak 
("oh wow... oh my fucking GOD... ohhhh.... shit!" i panted), 
and regained my sense of the space i still occupied within the room. 

it is difficult to remember what happened between this moment 
and the one that found me downstairs, back in my room, 
heart still beating like a djembe out of tune. 
i know that i had tried, rather unsuccessfully, to express 
some semblance of what i had just encountered. 
i also recall still smelling some faint hint of our pheromones 
lingering in the rich aromas of the house for hours after, 
although for all i know it was just a memory pushing further 
out of my recollection and into my nostrils. 

in any case, i had returned to the ground floor of our home 
with no badge of successful seduction, nor any solid rationalization 
of the distances i had just returned from. 


~:~:~

spooling skins, spilling hearts
encroaching on absurds
will share in open channels to 
approach new heights endured. 
the swan, the spine
now faint in mind,
you've helped awaken 
truths sublime; 
if love is heat 
and sorrow cool, 
i pray to find 
this sacred tool 
in fields away 
from prying hands, 
a tempest brews 
to sweep the lands 
that we might share 
like kings and court, 
for life is long, 
but youth is short.

~:~:~

typing this out as it flows from my fingertips, i am drenched in 
curiosity; what have i endured, what have i wrought, and 
what did she encounter in those few sweltering moments? 
i seek no answer to such ponderances, instead i thirst for more. 

my heart is full and empty, my senses are on fire. 
what next may come is a mystery i am prepared to 
be surprised by. 

and one word resounds throughout: love. 
love, unchained to libido, to expectation, to desire; 
unhooked by selfish hoarding or hopeless sacrifice. 
the love that i must follow into the darkness is the love 
that opens doors and levels walls. 

~blessings~
Bear



Correlations for Flow and Reasoning


battling with my own creations once they're given life, 
i profoundly feel that there's much more to learn than to teach. 
the plight of the wounded healer is all give and take, 
but it is getting harder to tell the difference. 
desiring the improbable is bittersweet; 
this great mystery of shielding my hopes from the pitfalls of expectation.


i can sense a thousand parallel outcomes in a single glance. 
this powerful creature beneath me. 
a moonlit road with no one, but happy alone. 
roaring madness nestled hidden in these mountains of ours. 
dancing just to feel it move through my veins. 
a touch, a taste, a glorified ray of sunshine exchanged without fear. 
haunting eyes floating into the night. 
a farewell that is so much more and less than departure. 
furious fire ripping my skin from new wounds. 
a sacrifice of the ego resounding through the atmosphere. 
white paint on every inch of my face while i smile into the mirror. 
success. 
failure. 
so many areas in between. 
neither. 


but a voice remains within, chanting a caucophony of 'surrender, surrender'
give it up, kid, you've only just begun to rise.



snagged on the splinters

stumble falter
lose momentum
blame ensnaring
still addicted


love is waiting
with some patience
for this traveler
to soon awaken