I have decided that my main problem is lack of touch. Sliding my legs under my blankets makes me shiver. I feel phantom hands on my waist constantly. My neck bows on its own and craves a hand to force it.
Please someone bring me their fingers. Graze me in a crowd. Push me, hit me, kick me--just as long as we touch. At this point I am so starved that any contact would be worth it.
1 comment:
Agatha was always irked by this crazy concept of rushing science: there was never physical contact. Things never touched. They came inevitably close to each other, but the actual molecules that make up the world never do touch, they are only repelled, in an interaction of inverse proximity.
She shall never touch you with her gaze, her irises are no more. The optic nerve is the shortest sensory nerve in the body.
Caresses, tickles, sexual pleasure and temperature are encoded as the same signal in the nervous system. [As the world around you touches you, the irradiant light, the alleged wind, the enticing brush of warn liquid through your lips]
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