9.17.20

I like the way they force themselves inside of me
and I love that loss of control
something I can't hold myself accountable for  
the hues and tints of afternoon air
mutated in minutes
the air and its density  
anchored to the ocean floor
that tingle behind my eyes
the way they dart around  
I like the way I know when its coming
like the collective murmur of a crowd
its subtle until its not anymore
I like the way its like a dance  
a play of forces
prodding and shifting
like birds dancing and veering in taut wind
I like the way they force themselves inside of me  
but, dear reader  
please do understand  
the figurative nature of my words  
and I ask you to abstain
from actual analysis
as these words  
are a matter of the penetration of the soul
as the body has seen enough