I Am
I want to make you feel things that you didn’t expect to feel - or maybe thrill you in an unsuspecting way. I want you to anticipate things from me I may not be able to deliver, but I still want you to come back to me time after time after time.
I want to make you laugh from your belly the way you haven’t been able to do with other people, deep from within and heartily, a joke just between us (that I will share with anyone who asks).
I want to make you think in new ways so as to broaden your vision, so we can connect better later on - delve back into things at an even more intense level.
I want to make you cry, from your soul. I want tears to run hot and stinging from your eyes and curse me for it - then thank me.
I want you to think of only me.
I want wind to blow through your eyes and sunshine to gleam in your hair.
I want pain blossoms to explode in your mind with sweet remembrances of sorrow.
I want you to feel hot wastelands at the bottom of dark ice crevasses.
I want you to fully relax in casual nakedness reclining on the daylight-warmed asphalt of the city.
I want to be your pseudo-God and have you blindly worship me on joyous knees bloodied with my praise -
No -
I want to be your ONE AND ONLY God!
I will work your mind like a puppet. I will twist it and turn it and make it hop around itself and trip over the furniture and hit itself with clubs. I will move the strings with my fingers both delicately and harshly - and perhaps make you falter - I can cut the strings if I wish . . .
I will make you feel the heat in your groin and the ache in your heart and the fever in your mind - I can churn them together in any combination so as to make you crazy for the next - and the next - moan for me.
I will make myself your only world for minutes or hours or even days, forgetting about your family, your life, everything else you care about.
I will make you soar through the air screaming for sanity.
I will make you weep with unending depression in a pool of sun-drenched darkness.
I will turn your body inside out and wrap it in your tattered soul.
I will make you giggle until you’ve washed yourself with tears.
I will make you think so hard it hurts!
I am -
- a writer.














Comments
Poet Aster he called himself Kubulah Khan. I knew him as Bob,and his wife as mine Janice also a very very good friend sister, She has loved me with her Mind and eyes. But that is niether here nor there Bob and J were very good friends who saved the life of my mind and so remind me of this very good deviation you have submitted. I rarely Favorite Literature or Poetry so don't feel slighted I favorited in mind and spirit.
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