The Image Inside

It is never
For the person
But for the appearance —
The image —
That the attraction is for

As soon as the object speaks
Moves
Pushes
Resists —
The attraction reverses
The spell breaks

What, then, is the attraction for
Not the actual
But the frozen image
Stored inside
Not for the continuous movement

The object out there —
Always changing —
Never matches
The still image inside

Can the mind perceive continuity
Or only stills
One image
Then another —
This
This —
Not the one just passed
Not the one before that

All I see
Is this instant
Not the movement
Just the still

And so it goes
With the person

What I remember
What I hold
Is not the continuous movie
But fragments —
Stills
Faded images
Some words
Some thoughts

Even with people
I’ve seen for years
Decades —

What remains
Just names
Just scenes
Images

Of the person I am attracted to —
I cannot hold, multiple images
Only one
Only this now

What I hanker for
Is not the object out there
But a reflection
Of what’s within

Because when I encounter
The one out there
Even a word
A smell
A gesture
Can turn me off

Yet I hanker —
What for

Must it not be
For the idealised image —
The frozen one, the still
Stored within
Which the object out there
Never matches

The object —
Even after being held
Seen
Touched
Always ends
In disappointment —

In anti-climax
Like some layer is stripped
From the eyes
And the one worth holding
Is seen
Just flesh —
Meat

Where was the attraction, then
Outside
Or inside
If it was outside
How did it vanish

The hunger
The addiction —
Is it in the bottle
On the table
Or in the mind

Surely —
In the mind

In what form
But thought
Word
Image
Memory

Can I feel desire
For what I’ve never seen
For someone never conceived

Do I not imagine
Only
What I have seen

Is imagination
Anything more
Than recollection

What is it
That I’m attracted to —
The moving object out there
Or the still image
In here

Is not every attraction
A projection —
Of memory
Thought
Image —
Overlaid
On what moves

Inside —
The image is instant, intimate
Outside
Always a gap

The idealised object —
Only a projection
Of the impression within
And that impression —
Isn’t even visible

All I ever chase
Is that —
An invisible impression
In an invisible space

I lay that —
Over the world
Over people
And chase
What I placed there

A lunacy —
Sticky labels
I write —
Gold
Platinum
Diamond —
And stick them
On bricks
Walls
People

And then I chase
What I labeled
Get upset
When I’m turned down —
Forgetting
I placed the labels myself

But —
Not all attractions
Are like this

Some arise —
A spark —
They burn
Disappear
Ungrasped
Unlabelled

Leave no residue
Do not haunt

The ones pursued —
Touched
Felt
Seen —
Leave a residue

A memory
Searing an impression
An imagination —

The object of which
I seek again
In the world outside