Desire flows through the veins.
People in a room often anticipate their exit. They open their hands and wait for an out. They close their hands, clasping them tightly together preparing for prayer with expectations embedded in their spirits as they wait to see what they are left with.
Equal exchanges make for clear messages. Truths and the concept of an eye for an eye which we all subconsciously live with line our thoughts and emotions.
Sometimes truth resides in corners we don’t want to look in.
The first time we always miss it, but if we are ambitious enough or have desire flowing through our veins we check again. We usually settle for the lies that are presented to us, letting them drape themselves in our acceptance and refusal to want to accept rejection.
Most of the time I wake up, full of energy and running towards the day and by night fall I find myself drained and longing for a sleep that will put me in a trance and carry me off to a land where I will manifest and explore my deepest thoughts and just dance truths.
Waking up is a reminder that sometimes it’s hard to reach ourselves when we have our eyes open to everything else. Desire flows through my veins. It does. It fuels me. It seeps through my pores. I suppose that I am different in a way. It’s a struggle for me to suppress that which I yearn for, but some how I find a way to do it very well, well enough that the struggle is not visible.
I cover you back up with sheets and relinquish in my efforts to place kisses all over you. Desire keeps flowing through my veins. I release you as requested. The truth is I am praying for a dream and the desire in my veins is different than yours.
Return back to my space and realize that the inability to be spontaneous kills the dreams and thoughts to enjoy the moment. In some way shape or form you’ve made every minute there after dull. You’ve made it clear that the desire that pumps through my veins should be redirected. It doesn’t belong here in an expressed fashioned, uncovered, and shared with you.
It belongs in my veins. Flowing in my veins as I become a person in the room, anticipating an exit, my hands closed, clasped together praying that when they are open again I will have an out.
Desire flows through my veins that’s what I am left with.
Powerful Politics 