I like that clowngod has the website of a commercial photographer yet reveals wickedly delicious art in his Livejournal. More proof that this is the place to be. I want to show the world such pretties. I want to share with everyone every last candy piece of art I stumble across, but I lose links too often, I can’t post enough past my failing computer. My hard-drive needs a complete back-up and wipe.
Running, it all starts with running. The jar in the teeth when one foot hits the ground, when the other foot follows it. When the moon is full, I think in movement. One hand trailing across his belly, another hand caught in his hair. In my blood is the beat, heartbeat thud, of the feet. Asleep, he’s asleep, which is good, he’s resting, but I’m going to wake him if I’m not careful. The softest skin, that body inertia. Think a moment when you’re in the air, flying. No support here, up on one elbow underneath me. Between steps, my lips, the hair softly falling out of my way. The heat, the wet heat, I can picture it flowing from my mouth like dark wet vapor. I want my hand to flow down like water to find the hidden lines, the places light doesn’t find so often. Chaos theory, depth, assurance of need because I can call this and claim this and he shifts a little in his sleep, hips moving. Warm skin and sweat, exertion running. Cadency breathing, hard pressing muscles moving, it’s piston shift, one foot after the other.