you remind me of crazy, fantastic things i've yet to know and yet to see and feel and smell. you materialize late at night and accept me willingly, engulf me as water. some nights you can exist as scent alone it seems. you give way and shape to fit me. enfold me.

i hide.

within the hiding in you at night lies the rolling gentle landscapes with the ambient golden hues where the veined wings of insects catch light and appear as rising snowflakes, adding to the crazy, upside-down feelings i get.

at night everything becomes gentle and eased. the insects become even more pleasant and morph one by one into drifting dandelion spores. the parachuting seeds float in spirally dynamic patterns, never falling, never resting. the barometer is the only thing that falls at night while engulfed by you in this strange layered way. i spend the night engulfed on several ecstatic levels. and when i am at the mercy of the impending and inevitable morning, your lingering and my reluctance to extricate myself from you compounds a situation brought about by the proxy representation you make of your sender miles away.