2002Jan19

He writes himself letters. We wonder where your mind is at regarding sex. It is the purity inside the dirty that makes it hot. It’s taboo nature is what makes it arousing. I have just purchased art supplies. Even pen and ink is sensual. It is no different from a chill running up my spine. Passionate love and passionate hate are the same, except that love feels good. Hate is painful. Life-changing events now seem to happen daily. I cannot commit to anything but my awe. I’m in a whole new dimension. I’ve spent much of my life skating under the radar, and so to draw or paint, sculpt or be heard – to say I’ve made a mark – enrapt in happiness, is a luxury I cannot afford to give up on. If I am entranced by love then let it be tactile and tangible. My dreams come true. The loneliness that causes masturbation is also only temporary, not as a predator but as a hedonist. This is my fantasy of no pain, no limits, just love. This is my choice, passion for language and touch. I will not hurt you, but I may not always live with you.
Presently,
Anything can happen.
Indigo