Relinquish

I am fascinated with the idea that you've given me,


Don't read this wrong - I am afraid. I am as gut-churningly afraid as I should be, given the situation. This is an extreme sport - I see that now. I have to take the plunge and there might not always be a safety harness.


Or a net.


But I would be a fool not to entertain this. To pierce the veil that flesh and thought place in front of my waking eyes, every day that I exist. These pursuits lend themselves most dramatically to the night, true - but there are far better things to be done in the witching hours than to dream. I'll swap my nighttime fantasies for waking pleasures, under your wing. 


I await only the impetus. You'll come for me one of these nights - in a bottle, or a herb, or a pill, or a body. I know that there is no lock, no bar, no door and no denial that can keep you out indefinitely, even if I wanted to. Surely the logical path, then, is to embrace you as friend and...well, 'ride' you, if you're pardon the pun. If it is ride or be ridden, I'll be ridden to ride, if that makes sense. I don't suppose it does - well, perhaps only in a vulgar way. Still, my home and hearth is yours. I know that you'll take advantage of my hospitality either way, but I wanted to formalize it.


I'm not religious, but I am operating under the understanding that you bring me closer to God. That may be a fallacy, but I don't care. You'll take me to places that Jesus can't go, and that's good enough for me.


I ask only one thing of you - do not consume me. These violent delights have violent ends, or so I'm told, but I wish to retain myself. I will immerse myself in you, but I wish to emerge from the other side of that particular pool whole, if not unscathed. I hold no illusions for my safety, but when you finally claim me, I want to go to your embrace as myself, and not as your slave. I understand if you cannot promise.


I await your visitation with eager anticipation, and I wish for you to know that I am, now and forever, your humble servant.


J.