I want to hold it in my hands. I want to press my fingers around it and feel it living beneath my touch. I want it against me so I can feel the blood moving through the capillaries that nestle just below the surface of the smooth soft skin.
Capillaries are so small that the red blood cells move through them in single file. When I was in school, they showed a movie about the circulatory system that had footage of this happening– the little torus-y objects shuffling through the tiny, tiny tubes like kids in an amusement park line.
That’s what I want to feel happening beneath my fingers, in your skin, in your body, as I hold you, touch you, listen to your heart, test your pulses, give you orgasms.
Everything is about flow. The wind, rivers, your blood, time, diffusion, electricity, sexual secretions, life, thought. It’s all about flow.
What poisons have we peddled to make it seem otherwise?