Desire V

2 min readFeb 12, 2024

The desire to freeze time.

A yearning above all the rest.

In an ice block of my youth is where I long to be.

Even the present is in movement — ever changing

The in-between spaces that exist from the end of a second to the beginning of another one, those can even be sliced and diced to find vibration.

How fast would we have to be moving to be able to jump back if we really wanted to?

Would we disintegrate and dissolve?

I simultaneously wish to be still and moving at light speed.

My Roman Empire is my finite nature. A cage of flesh, ground down by density.

A vortex of existential thought.

For much of my life, this carbon-based body has felt too solid, too slow, too achy.

The heaviness of matter — disorienting.

My preference, is to disseminate into the whole. Become the ether that I feel so akin to.

Gravity, a trap — and we the mere mortals. The prison block tango of sacred fools.

The separation of elements never quite integrated within my being.

So much distance, so much untapped potential.

We could be heroes, if we tried.

Have we really not evolved past aging?

Aging is the true equalizer. A slow degradation that we usher along.

But did I really sign that contract?

From one perspective, I sure did.

I chose this experiment. Oh, how romantic.

The fate of mortality means a slow peel that strips your varnish away.

Unrelenting, unforgiving and damn cunning, at that.

Regressive physiology strikes again.

So, here’s the raw truth: I am too vain to get old.

It’s just not for me. This much I know.

So I’ll try to run — fabulously — I might add, with gusto and style; but I know I can’t hide.

And if I can’t change biology, I’ll change whatever else I possibly can.

My strategy is simple:

I talk to whatever is on the other side and I drive a hard bargain.

I make it so fun for the playful spirit that she always wants to be with me.

I flirt my way to having unlimited access to the fountain of youth.

I seduce the creative muse like the siren I am.

I dance with indulgence as it eats me alive; only to spit me out transformed.

I die, over and over again — so that I may be in constant rebirth.

I am in the world, not of it.