MIND: Roots

I don’t lie to you.
Nor do I try to hurt you when I’m honest with you.
I’ve protected, or tried to, the best in you.
I never could promise to protect your body and soul –
nobody can promise another that.
We can only make one another strong, help each other to believe in ourselves.
He does not protect you – he makes you a slave.
You get befuddled.
You need him and he needs you – and it’s not true, it’s a lie, and you know it, and that’s the root of all your unhappiness.

// Henry Miller, from a letter to Anaïs Nin

SOL: Masterpiece

I breathe adventure, I sin for travel
He tells me Paris belongs to me as I
Arch my back in triumph while
Sweat pours from suntanned skin the
Shade of café au lait, I want
To ravage his mouth, his hands, eat my way through
His stomach until I feel his heartbeat on my bottom lip
My tongue traces each freckled constellation on his
Back and he tries to make sense of my tangled tattoos with
Hands wrapped in flaxen hair, neck stretched back
Drinking champagne out of collarbones as he pins me
To the wall like a masterpiece, he says I belong in the Louvre
Barely leaving the room, crumbs in sheets, white teeth
Snapping wolfishly towards secret places
He warns me not to fall in love and I
Look at him with a Mona Lisa grin

3AM Thoughts // AKA “Je me souviens.”

MIND: Addict

What I want is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody. Who I need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention. Somebody addicted to me. A mutual addiction.”

Choke // Chuck Palahniuk

MIND: A Little Bit Drunk

Why don’t I get down on my knees and just worship you?
I can’t, I love you laughingly. Do you like that?
And dear Anaïs, I am many things.
You see only the good things now – or at least you lead me to believe so.
I want you for a whole day at least. I want to go places with you – possess you.
You don’t know how insatiable I am. Or how dastardly. And how selfish!

I have been on my good behaviour with you. But I warn you, I am no angel.
I think principally that I am a little drunk. I love you.
I go to bed now – it is too painful to stay awake. I am insatiable.
I will ask you to do the impossible. What it is, I don’t know.
You will tell me probably. You are faster than I am… it drives me crazy.
And the way you say my name! God, it’s unreal. Listen, I am very drunk.
I am hurt to be here alone. I need you.
Can I say everything to you? I can, can’t I?
Wrap your legs around me. Warm me.

// Henry Miller, from a letter to Anaïs Nin.

SOL: Wine

I broke into your house
Grabbed the wine from your kitchen
Counter, covered in mushrooms
Stashed among your acid in a tin
I climbed the stairs to your room
Taking swigs from the bottle
Until my lips were stained
Red, like a whore’s rouge
I found you there
Lying on the four poster bed
Looking like maybe you knew all along
That I’d find my way back to you
Your smug Cheshire Cat grin
Lasts long enough for me to
Step out of my dress with the roses
Letting it fall to the ground like petals
Watching your hands rise until
Your mouth is on mine, suffocating
As if I’m holding the antidote at the
Back of my throat
We rip into each other, voracious
I feel the bottle drop
Spill, fall over
As I bite into your earlobe
The fleeting thought enters my mind
You pair nicely with a bottle of wine

3AM Thoughts // AKA “You Taste Bitter But You Feel Inspiring.”

SOL: I’m Not in Love

I’m not in love with you
I should be, hell, I might have been
In one fleeting moment between sobriety and intoxication
A brief pit stop between sanity and madness
Perhaps the first moment my inner monologue
Stopped identifying your eyes as simply “brown”
And gave them the complex tongue twisting title of
“Caramel chocolate in the sun with pistachio colored flecks in the morning”
I might have loved you the first time
You whispered my name with a mouth full of sleep
I could almost see each syllable do a pirouette
As it leapt off your tongue and into the air
You breathe me out as I breathe you in
I gave you all of me, whatever what was left
Which you took from me, gladly

3AM Thoughts // AKA “I Want All of You, Always.”