Love Letters, Part 3 [9-04-09]

Why am I so compelled
by the image
of two human animals mashing their faces together
clicking teeth and lashing tongues?
Folds of flesh, pink and pale
folding over other folds of flesh
invite a foreign being beyond walls of white enamel
for a deed that a tool for breaking down and consuming
can only entertain the notion of understanding.

This is silly.
After all, to know it at its physical truth,
without translation, an image is only a collection of pigments
acids and minerals forming hues
pushed and blended for no practical purpose.
Its worth is based entirely on the unlikelihood
of eyeballs tied to brain matter
jolting electricity from fold to fold;
in the end, it's just another excuse to release horomones
and since when did we need an excuse for that?

But despite my objections it works like a charm.
Makes me wish for someone worth smashing faces with--
repetitively, if possible--
someone to enjoy stupid ideas with
who has the good nature to stick around for the consequences.
Someone who'll give me the chance to enjoy their weird hobbies
because I enjoy them.
Someone with whom to sync the deeper chemistries of brain matter
given the chance to ignore higher brain function
and listen to the rhythm underneath
until we reach that sweet spot
where together we are both exponentially ourselves
a positive feedback loop of us.

---

Pnelma's Pen