250: "Touch Me"

Where I go, when I go there
No more memory anymore
Only men on distant ships
The women with them, swimming with them to shore

Where I go, when I go there
No more whispering anymore
Only hymns upon your lips
A mystic wisdom, rising with them, to shore

Touch me – just like that
And that – o, yeah – now, that’s heaven
Now, that I like
God, that’s so nice
Now lower down, where the figs lie

Where I go, when I go there
No more shadows anymore
Only men with golden fins
The rhythm in them, rocking with them, to shore

Where I go, when I go there
No more weeping anymore
Only in and out your lips
The broken wishes, washing with them, to shore

Touch me – all silent
Tell me – please – all is forgiven
Consume my wine
Consume my mind
I’ll tell you how, how the winds sigh

Touch me – just try it
Now, there – that’s it – God, that’s heaven
I’ll love your light
I’ll love you right
We’ll wander down where the sins cry

Touch me – just like that
Now lower down, where the sins lie

Love me – just for a bit
We’ll wander down, where’s the winds sigh

Where the winds sigh
Where the winds sigh

The lyric is from the musical, "Spring Awakening."

I've read somewhere that a baby needs the loving touches of her mother to development into a happy adult. But inappropriate touches, obviously, could be detrimental. As a teenager, I avoided any sort of touches because I felt the stain of sin covering me, defiling me... Well, here I am now, a bit fucked up...

A little more than a week ago, this cute guy I've met told me that he wanted me to come over to his place to have sex. He wanted to "play" with me. And instead of listening to a fundamental biological imperative, I continued on, literally, packing to go fly away. When I returned from my trip, his invitation was still open. But the universe finds way to punish my moment of fear. I got sick. The booty call never happened.

Shit.

I am a ball of unhealthy neurosis.