essay: #021: Palm of My Hand

c.9 news

Fetish, and the art of it, all.
Boudoir secrets.
Suck them in.
Suck them out.

A friend hands me.
Small boxes, of human hair.
Over Asahi.
Hers.
Dated, from eternal summers.
Into the autumn of now.

How strange it feels.
Weight, of a whole head, of human hair.
Minus its body.
In the palm, of your hands.

My brother’s fetish.
It turns out.
Is life, extremes, children, and body art.
Beautiful, as he is.
With symbols sharp.
And sometimes, soft.

Just words.
Some may say.
But we’re all naked, without them.
In the end.

Secrets we keep.
The ones, we don’t.
Life, shines on, regardless.
Whatever, turns you on.

For me.
It's the waves, now.
hop aboard.
Surf, another sunset.
one door closes.
Sayonara, and thanks for coming...

# #