a reaction to chains.

scrawled 3.30.2009 by miss.abi | E-mail this post

Let me be weak for you.

Twist me into tongues of ancient language;
rewind time to moments when I defined myself
as merely a reaction to your chains.
Painted as equal and opposite
to all that begins within you.

Dizzied into a supplicant's stupor,
I'll bring the Wailing Wall to your feet,
make Hajj in the direction of your heart,
a pilgrimage to your door,
lock me up in lust.
Cuff to wrist,
sheets as snakes constricting ankles,
tie me down upon the altar of subjugation.

I remember
the way you inhaled me like oxygen;
breath turned rope,
wrapped 'round straining throat,
my respiration birthed from
your exhalations.

Pliant skin and marionette limbs,
dance me into submission.
Existence scripted from your fingers,
elucidating the essence of my presence
within the lines of your definitions.
Translate me as your echo;
give meaning to movement and
significance to sound.

Let me lay down for you.

I want to be
what you intend...
to exist as merely a slave in your servitude,
a reaction to your chains.
Mold me into quintessence,
so that I become substance
once again.