Eroticism

Eroticism is a book that chants me.
I often i get lost in its letters and forget my way back.
…When life manages to tear me away,
I get shocked by all I saw and enjoyed…
It is like i have lived in another body
And the transformation
On a different entity,
Does not allow the metamorphosis…
…It is a book that confuses me nowadays
…I do not know, how to handle this chant?
…And even if I settle myself to think of it for days long
Maybe I will not come to an answer?
…The most shocking of all,
how yesterday for the first time,
I got allured by a girl,
Who is now dispersed in the air.
…Not a touch or a feel of it again
…Like the spider that goes hand in hand with death,
In the name of attraction!
…Somebody’s sense of play
…Nature might think it is all.
It stands for.
…And then it touches me.
How this chant makes me feel beauty?

Not like seeing it on the best painting of a guru.
But like touching it with the fingers of your own hand.
While your nerves desperately excited
And in fire, eagerly try
And memorize every bit of it,
Never leaving you the same you were before
…I was thinking all of it yesterday,
When I touched a girl,
Caressing her red hair,
Like we both knew,
A neutral organic sort of knowing that tasted of sweet,
Flowing in our veins.
And her artful back,
With a baby soft flesh
And a shimmer all along.
It was familiar to me,
On all the muses,
On those creations,
Desperately surrendered
To force of inspiration.
Yet,
This time I was memorizing it,
With the touch of my finger.
Organic, smooth and neutral.
As passing a strawberry along your lips,
And enjoying the touch
Of this sweet fruit
And smelling!
And playing!
And then making it yours!
Feeling I got this energy,
This bliss i knew i could not get on a view.
And the charge of her feminine breast,
Shows veiled
And unveiled by the fabric of her cloth,
All of the contour of an erotic detail.
A muse,
As i had seen it on the mysterious catalog
Of earthly chants.
…This time i was merging with it.
Colliding under a reaction,
That led glittering sparkles all the way…
…And then
…Like an aurora
…When it ceases and stops being,
You wonder under the burden of the memory.
…Sometimes you understand.
But other times?
The thrill stretches his long red nails,
Leaving marks on your flesh!
…A rush of endorphine,
Another bliss!
Just to put another layer,
As to make sure
And reinforce the strength of this addiction!
Eroticism chants me,
Its waves drag me to the core
And even there I fear.
I will not know what it stands for.
…But just feel the echo of its force.
Yet its roots to the underneath,
Emanating from sources of we all do not know,
Why does it has to make sense?
When it’s just like:
«The being»
It is another stubborn beauty,
Who denies to surrender to no reason,
No religion, or any earthly script around.
Like the being,
Inexplicable,
Yet over-reigning,
In silence,
In chant,
Amazingly real…