OLD MOVIES

They take over my mind. It isn't enough
to simply sit and watch from opening credits
to final scene. I want to absorb them all,
to let them fill the empty spaces in my life,
to race across the moor to Wuthering Heights;
soaked in  heavy rain and cold sweat
as I breathe in the moisture laden air and run
through purple heather with Cathy:
two manic Souls on a shared quest
to find the impossible,
as wild as the hills beneath our feet.
An intoxicated brain longs to bring my body too,
to make it my story
and carve my initials on a thorn tree, beside a date
that even Cathy cannot touch...

It would be simple if this were the only one.
But there are so many - a hundred at least -
each someone else's brainchild, manifested
into old video cassettes that I can handle
and absorb into my being through nerve endings
made hypersensitive by life-long addiction.
Aah...the sensuous smell of those tapes
makes me dizzy with euphoria:
I often wish I could unravel
then re-arrange my molecules into a long
ribbon-like form and wind myself around two spools.

The first time I felt this way
was when I discovered Ryan's Daughter.
Something like an express train slammed into me
and smashed right through those deep seated repressions
that society instills into us in the name of "morals"
in it's attempt to curb our innate natural drives.
Oh I realise it was considered wrong, what they did,
but how it set my pulses racing
to observe them together in that emerald forest.
I became the voyeur no longer able to bear exclusion.
I had to be a part of it, to slip within the experience
and feel my body tingle from the touch of his fingertips...

Then someone called me "Rose"
and I found myself in Major Doryan's arms
and we fucked all afternoon.
Oh such indescribable bliss...

I thought I must be dreaming.
Then I noticed my life story playing out
in moving pictures on my skin.