Crossposted from
http://community.livejournal.com/a…___________________________________________________________________
About living alone in a place usually inhabited by many people.
The fact that I'm alone in the universe is only intensified by the fact that I can walk out into my miniature front lawn, unbutton my pants, piss, and take a bow...and nobody cares.
Nobody cares because nobody's here.
And before you wince and condemn me in your head, think about my living arrangement.
Usually, when I pee, it's in a semi-broken toilet that I have to hold the handle down on until it's finished flushing.
This entails watching my excrement twirling about and taking its own bow, before promptly vanishing into the infinite abyss of the sewer system.
The same holds true for going #2.
Think of this as less liberating and more...shall we say, "user friendly"?
The idea of total freedom means being alone, and by force.
It's the price you pay.
No matter how comfortable you are with someone else around, they're still your God;
In their own not-so-magical way, they hold control over you.
Not because they care, but because you do.
No amount of lethargy is going to allow you to release and just let go...of say, your bowels, in the presence of another in an unorthodox situation.
The unwitting infinite power of the observer is something to be held in awe.
____________________________________________________
Sex.
Everyone is talking about it.
It's the new red.
Eventually red fades to pink.
Straight up inserting tab "A" into slot "B" isn't good enough anymore.
Sex has faded from its glory days of good ol' female submission and missionary style sex-aerobics.
Gone are the days of one-on-one cock-fighting with a vagina
Anew are the passionate hours of two-on-one's, three-on-one's, two-on-four's.
Double dildo action with optional anal lubricants.
Soggy biscuits.
Gang bangs.
And the most painful:
A kiss.
What could be more harmless and deadly at the same time?
No longer are all women satisfied, or at least, pretending to be satisfied, with a kiss from her y-chromosome baring partner.
Babysteps first.
The modest requests.
The denial of pain, the promotion of innocence where there is none.
The false assurances and feigned disinterest.
While all along you were happy as you were, with her kiss.
It's not homophobia.
It's possession.
It's want.
You want her, she want's another "her".
Just to try it.
Just to experience.
And then what?
Everyone knows tastes of passion are never enough.
People have died to have more than a taste.
Hearts have been broken over tastes.
___________________________________________
Dark
Abused
Chill