him

i crave connection with your creamy forbidden skin. i watch you from across the room and my heart explodes with attraction. i tremble with anxiety as i mentally explore this unknown territory. do you think of me?...am i new for you? i wonder what you smell like, if your touch would feel different. your lips...whether they would enjoy mine. i would always say no to such a possibility, fearful of the challenge...lack of connection...absence of understanding. with you i feel no fear.

I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naïve or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman. ~Anaïs Nin

untitled

our souls connected. instantly. he feels like home. like he understands my heart. his dreams had become mine. i envisioned holding his hand as he soared into the future. his laughter is like pure gold, melting dripping seductively encasing my insides. i could feel his hands on me. loving me from head to toe. -i love to love you baby-endeavering to heal old wounds. collecting his tears. how does one feel safe in the virgin experience of being held by you. where is your mind? where have your thoughts gone? your lips. sweet like warm syrup. brilliant as a vehicle for your soul to explode. i kept checking for you. hoping our eyes would meet from across the room. that i'd turn around to your yet unseen smile. that your strong arms would embrace my waist as you breathed me in. that your voice would be on the other end. that you were addicted to me. pursuing me. wanting me. needing me. blue balls of expectation. had to release on my own. again.

in recovery

like nicotine; i struggle with my addiction. i suck and puff and blow, only to be burned as the ashes drip between my thighs. you share your chromosomes like they are a prize. silence the day after yelling loudly in my heart. i try the patch, no substitute will do. i chew on another searching for satisfaction constantly reminded of the estatic euphoria that would exist between my lips. can i have another? i whore myself for more and more and more awakened to your backside moving to the horizon. you are my stick of desire, a glutton for you am i...and more and more and more always wanting. i smell you on another aroused by the fragrance of your funky fresh aroma and more and more i must have you nothing but death will separate. death of my soul it lies empty drained by the energy known as love and more and more i must still have more sucking on air that fills you on the inside lacking substance my mind begins to go conquered by toxins emitted i struggle with my addiction i struggle with my addiction i struggle with my addiction i struggle with my addiction

a.r.t.

there is something about an artist

they bleed creativity
i love to gaze into the eyes of an artist...boiling with unbirthed concepts
the way an artist walks is sexy
their hands, vehicles of the imagination
i've never met an artist that wasn't good in bed...the roll of his (or her) tongue
the use of his phallus as if it were a brush or pen
i'm talking about a true artist...one who is both aware and dedicated to the craft.
writers, painters, poets, sculptors, actors, etc...all artists.
all individuals with something on the inside that must be released to the outside world
verbosity exists through the masterpiece and speaks to the trained ear

what it is...

A revolutionary is what those who favor revolution, when they are most committed and most hopeful, try to embody daily. The modern world has so much compromise and craziness that this isn't easy, even if one sincerely seeks to accomplish it.

Revolution is a lifestyle and not a t-shirt. It isn't something that one turns on and off. It isn't something that one does part time, or periodically, at least not if one is a true revolutionary. You can aid revolution part time or periodically, for sure, and that's fine, I believe. But, beyond that, to actually become a revolutionary means that you always have as one very large component of how you look at things, of how you think about things, and especially of what you decide to do, trying to best contribute to revolution.

So, again, what is revolution?
Revolution is an accumulation of victories won by aroused populations leading to fundamental changes in defining social relations, and it is those achieved changes too, and it is also the process of designing the new relations, and of implementing them, and it is, as well, the process of populations becoming aroused, becoming informed, becoming organized along the way.

Revolution ends old epochs and begins new ones.

Revolution can replace poverty with equity, derision with respect, anti-social egoism with solidarity, alienation with community, authoritarianism with self management, homogenization with diversity, patriarchy with feminism, racism with intercommunalism, and the economics of greed and competition with the economics of mutual aid and cooperation.

Revolution is a way of life that people can sensibly adopt if they care about themselves, their families, their friends, their neighbors, their local fellow citizens, and people all over the world.
Revolution is what is on the revolutionary's agenda. It is, indeed, the heart and soul of the revolutionary's agenda. It is what we need in the modern world, for liberty, and dare i say for survival.

sex

it serves so many different purposes. i am fascinated by the primal desire within us all to partake in a little action. i love talking about sex, and wish that the topic wasn't so taboo. sometimes when i look at a stranger, i wonder when they last had an experience. i wonder who their lover was, and whether they enjoyed themselves. when starting a new relationship, i sometimes believe that the other persons ability to talk about sex outweighs their actual ability to perform. performance can be worked on...but a mindset...that can be difficult to change. i would love to do an anthology discussing people's best and worst sexual experiences.