The psychological state of being in love could be described as an obsession complex.
– C.G. Jung
The key part of this sentence is the “could be”.
Dreams fade
and dreams return
early morning dreams.
Soft pillow
beneath your head
you sinking into it
an arm around your shoulder.
Vague hesitation
a secret world at your doorstep
a single thought away.
Emotional inhibition
ideological obstruction
lay me gently on the bed
whisper intimate secrets
velvet covered steel
malleable.
The knees shake
the heart pounds
the face flushes
somatic innervations
countless body sensations
falling into time — again
a streak of perspiration
a wry twist
a catching smile
village bells chiming
somewhere far off.
Each lock of hair
a yellow bouncing curl
that tortures me exquisitely.
Psychic manifestations
synchronous chains of associations
alterations of the will
a strange power
nervous energy mounting up
hands moving over the warmness
searching.
Painful reminiscences
hallucinatory delirium
autochthonous ideas
sudden impulses
hands dipping into solid softness.
Mouth parted
ordinary words
that never emerge
instead
stimulus words that hit a complex
a striking effect
smitten
sinking into amnesia
little gasps of pleasure along the way.
– suraab
Flopping with the wind
to tremendous effect
a kite losing distinction
falling
I still think of you
I still think of you
lost to me forever
I still think of you
riffling through my brain
repetitions of stimulus words
perseveration
lack of inhibition
voluptuous thoughts
fill me
’cause you are here
frozen in time
panicked
looking for a place to hide
in the middle of a field
full of you
space of my enemy
I’ll reach out and touch you
a small gentle touch
warm, soft, lasting
but dispassionate
the connection severed
leaving
no solace for a lonely world
speech confusion
ideation floundering
the directing idea
gone
violent excitements over nothing
parade around me
we must ask
where the ordinary crosses over
to the unordinary
I’d grab you
hold you near
but you’d scream
bloody Mary
and the world would shatter around us
brilliant shards of glass
sparkling
associative clauses
small nothings leading
to violent excitements
absolutely incongruous to you
absolute darkness
batty, hell’s bat
coming down from up on that cliff
flames in his after flow
he’ll rip me into shreds
and leave me with nothing
but the fading thought
of that brief touch
I stole from you.
– Kasper Tannen
Shadows grow down in
the valley, while mountains bathe
in twilight orange.
– matt at shadow of iris
