The waking hours

I slept like in the woods, short intervals of sleep and restless, annoying dreams, scaring myself up every now and then - from a touch, from a kiss, from a flash of someone - falling asleep again, either sad or hungry or disgusted of the last one, just to dive into the next dream, as unsatisfied as before. I saw faces and bodies I knew, and strangers, too - too young and too old, all similarly too unapproachable, and why was that?

It is never really about just the body's need to get laid - there would be easy solutions at hand, if it ever was just that. Why should I be so increasingly bothered by people, so drawn, so stuck with the memories of some, so BREATHLESS when remembering something, someone, some moment suddenly?

I was hoping for the party with the young ones, and i was keeping close to K, who touched my back with his wide palm - to be waking up from this WARMTH, it was the shittiest morning.
Somebody was caressing my toes in the tub, soft, but knowing hands, and I had no reason to not relax my had back into the wooden boards and just have hazy glimpses towards the starlit skies and almost .. not.. think.
I had seen this short man before, he had light eyes and dark face, so similar to a wolf man I met long ago, but never properly. I wish there was no FB to remind us to the normality of human relationships, the trends and stereotypes in it, I wish just sometimes to be free to react,
but I had just seen and reacted to the man with the dragon tattoo two days before, why was I to complain? And how many times while kissing him had I thought of K?
So still.
And now I dreamt of a stranger, older man on the street, face wrinkled and silly classes on, and I went to kiss him with no further thought.
A Swedish girl, drunk, not far from wasted, in a woodshed.
Another, and her chocolate, I don't like it that I must now keep away, because again... definitions and owning, damn.
A professor in class, so natural in the context, so inappropriately seductive when taken out of it - i love the levels of genders people play with.
Redheads from another countries, all cold hands and butterfly touches, all the cuddles that were missing from my bed due to their absence.
The endless list of never meeting, parallel lines of interest shooting through space, some crossings and withdrawals, some blind spots.

With eyes that open, with myself so hidden.