*Kitsch

I have scratches on my back
Red, long scratches of lust
Reminding me of acid nights
Of ecstasy veiled under the curse of a never ending game

I have a scent in my nostrils
A scent of sex, sweat and submission
Refusing to diffuse
Or to make way, to the air I am not able to breathe

I have a soul under my skin
But the soul is not my own, I stole it
And it is not disguised in red, restraining
Getting hold of a body that is not its temple

I was once light, unexposed
Unattached to the carnal scratches, diluted scents
Or lost souls finding refuge in my being

Now I long for the weight
Induced by all my senses
Being driven by a single source
A magnet of an addictive taste
An engraved touch
A vibrating voice that reaches as deep as the heart of my soul
And a smell of an infinitely blissful eternity

Inspired by The unbearable lightness of being – Kundera
Beirut Airport – June 21