‘when he loves me. in bed. when he puts his arms around me, and i can feel his skin, his heart beating, his breath, and i smell him, it’s like africa. it’s like, i get scared because all of my guts shake. sometimes i press my hands against myself because i think things are coming loose inside. he just touches me, starts to barely touch me, and i’m so frightened because it’s so much, it’s so hot, it’s so close to losing my mind. it’s beyond pleasure. it’s… he takes me over. like there’s a storm, i get caught in this storm with electricity and rain and noise and i’m blind i’m blind. i’m seeing things, but just wild, wild shapes flying by like white flyin rain and black shapes. i feel i feel this this rising thing like a yell a flame. my hair i can feel my hair like slowly going up on its toes on my skull my skull. everything goes up through me from my belly and legs and feet to my head and all these tears come out but it can’t get out that way, so it goes down against my throat swells an through down to where it can get out GET OUT GET OUT. but it doesn’t go out, so i, i EXPAND. like to an ocean. to hold the size of it. and then it’s maybe something you could speak of as pleasure, since then somehow I can hold it. i’m this ocean with a thousand moons and comets reflecting in me. and then i come back. slowly. slowly. from such a long way. and such a different size. and i’m wet. my body my hair. the bed is just soaked, torn up and soaked. there ain’t a muscle left in me. i’m all eyes. my eyes are the size of like two black pools of water in the middle of an endless night.’ -the dreamer examines his pillow, john patrick shanley
(cuddlies: here)
