Approval of nightly mentality

I wish I could treat you like the rest of my lovers. Undefined, uncaring. It’s this thing they are saying that when you care about someone you can give them the world in a plate of strawberries. I desperately wanna know what’s going on in your head. I admire this strength of yours to balance. While I’m crawling like a little, like a very very little snail on the Earth, (you paved for me) you are rising. Maybe it’s just another crisis– another moment, a passing emotion that will leave my body before dawn. Oh how I hate nights. There is a deadly simplicity folding the evening sky. That sky betrays a sense of unfulfilled possession and how this possession, even if as a negative trait becomes a necessity. It always reminds you of the people you once had and how much you are now longing for them to come back – even in snapshots.
I wonder if there was any process of reasonable thought involved in the process of creation. I also wonder if the suffering body still evolves. Let’s talk a bit about our sex life. What is more common than that nowadays? Two bodies wrapped in one blanket. Desire. I don’t care if you are a man or a woman. Just be my immoral lover. Dare me to seek change, to rotate, travel, discover the hidden parts of your skin. Let your body heave and bend in the dim light where shadows betray only this thin lining of what you really are. Funny enough, I don’t want to see anything of you, as I don’t want to know you more than I already do. Finally, it is mystery which makes you (any you-) stimulating.