The Incorrigible Limitation of Materiality

Within the definitions of our existence, one of the greatest features is our material presence. It is the fact that our body exists that we exist, we cannot exist beyond it.
The pleasure I had of tracing every inch of your skin, as I pleased in those moments of time that were condensed into an infinite singularity and stretched to juxtapose a single point, was all due to the fact that both our bodies exist.
Every breath I felt against my neck, every hesitation when your fingers probed mine for safe haven, every inexplicable shortness of air added to the sensuality of the material presence. It was real. It felt real. It was more than real. Every moment augmented by an imposing background track that matched the beat in between a heart and a war drum. The intoxicating cauldron of emotion that heightened every possible sensation and dulled away every insignificant detail that did not exist as a factor to contribute to the realization of a beautifully cataclysmic event that only later would we call “us”.

12895401_10205490117726722_1506797038_n “Maybe we were an atom diametrically split at the time of the Big Bang; hopelessly trying to find our way back to…well, home.”

It was only later that I realized. It was after the emotions flowed into my heart and made it beat harder when all it wanted was to give up. It was after I realized that the weight Atlas carried was not the sky but the weight of his loneliness. It was after the desperate messages to more people than it mattered to. It was after the arduous crawl through an existential crisis.

It was after all of that that I realized the pain of our existence that we experienced simultaneously in the presence of the other was the push our existence gave against the hard boundaries of our skin that couldn’t be broken. There were limits to our existence that couldn’t be overcome; no matter how high we flew, we would never be beyond those barriers.

The pain was that you and I would always refer to each other as the other.

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