Desire (the good kind)

Desire sounds like a corny word even though it’s a big part of living. Desire sounds like something to joke about even though it’s life affirming and seriously human. Desire is something painful even though it feels like a wonderful momentum. Desire feels like strings being tightened around the ribcage and heart even though it’s often about undressing, opening and releasing a huge feeling. Desire is loud in minds and inside clothes even though it can be a beautiful secret that is quiet to the outside for a while. Desire feels like persistence even though it’s so much in a hurry. Desire is amazingly gorgeous and beautiful even though it sometimes kind of controlling, even though it beats like a drum, boom boom, taking up space, a time waster sometimes. Desire is bloody hungry for escape into pleasure, dirty deep and muddy but fireworks explosive in the air, oh so high. Desire is a climber up a wall,

 “Where’s the mountain top?”

 says desire. 

Desire isn't always young. Desire is wanting more of life. Desire is a seed in a whispery rise or a symphony on the brink of thick air, thick air filled with layers of sound on an escalating, somersaulting achingly undulating and mystifying creation. Desire isn't the smallest or the biggest, tallest or thinest, it's more difficult and full  than a stereotype or a mean slave to envy that won't do much at all in it's boring energy. 

Desire is a rocket ship or a warm tunnel to a wilderness of love. Desire was a song from the Femmes when I was much younger and when I started to know it, it was both a trap and a key. We may never be free when we desire, not completely but it’s bed may hold me all the same. Like a blister in the sun, it may hurt some, sometimes but it’s bed may hold me all the same. It’s bed may hold me while it can.