The Most Beautiful Bitter Fruit

After sundown, before sleeping

I am the worst of me. I am a mess of these

Old themes and the murmur of half-dreams

whisper seductively and stage scenes

It's fear fiction, these visions

Caught somewhere between delusion and prophesy

What I haven't done, what I've wanted to

And what I fear you have

Becomes reality here

Bright lights in the young night keep to the beat

A classic party scene, crowded and interesting

No love, no life, no history

Just touch, just chemistry, just

A roaring undercurrent simple and sensory

Young bodies, warm skin, perfect symmetry and

It's a moment, harmless. It's energy

It's like medicine

It's self-discovery

See, all the secrets I keep, why are they secrets?

It's only temporary, that fleeting feeling of warmth

Just a flash before the line gets blurry

Between a longing for more than what the body wants now and

What the body wants now more than anything

Was it integrity that kept my hands to myself or

Just the thought of getting too far ahead of you?

Was it that I got too tired of the consequence?

Or was I just scared?

I only know I never wanted to get left behind

No pauses, not a second guess

First a swaying then a stumble then a swagger

They're just movements towards feeling. It doesn't matter

Neither hesitates to carry on a kind of energy

Sweat and block out everything to

Find every aperture and compel the animal parts

Fan flames, taste fruit, taste bitter fruit

Just trying to learn how all the wires in the body work

Just trying to feel it out, it's like medicine

Trap the healing in whatever bed they end up in

I want to feel it out. I want to know how it works

I want to know if it was worth it to worry

About the ghosts I feared would haunt the memory

About the damage that I'm sure the fear has done to me now

I want to know what it is in me that won't follow through

Those nights the instinct takes a hold of me and pushes too

Maybe it's only that I've never gotten over you

Or am I still scared?

I see the church steps, a vision

Is there fiction in this one too?

It's true, I've made a tale of it here, still

It's a little unclear who's been haunting who

And time can be such a funny thing, always moving to the future

Glorifying the past and amplifying the pain in frames and glass

So was our touch half as sacred as I've made it seem

Or just another fabrication of a half-dream?

Just those chemicals, the adolescent love

Just us trying to grasp onto meaning

Onto a purpose

Onto a sense that

Something spiritual releases when the feeling hits

And when the feeling hits

And in that moment sparks and harps play out

A sweeping melody through fog and fantasy

And in that moment there's an honesty instinctive and pure but

It departs like it came, rapid and bearing no more

Than fleeting ecstasy of natural harmony

They fear the notes being played and try to sing along

Don't be ashamed, be free to the feeling. Don't be ashamed, keep feeling

But find it: a body that makes sense

I've felt it