elegantly repulsive and yet the villain in me drives closer to
something intangible, the masculine forces inside me are always
conflicted with the externalized feminine forces, and the opposite
occurs with women’s internal femininity versus the externalized
masculinity… some observer screaming, this is what my conscious ego is
like, pointing out with a judgmental air every maddening detail… the
establishment of self through all the hectic feelings that swivel and
swerve… filing the teeth to points graded on the curve, with tenacity,
the build-up to the one last nerve… my internal gauge for sexuality
breaks down into multiple pieces each time I begin to set my mind a
certain way, like the clock springing loose, and my penchant for the
absurd only grows stronger and more obvious… the insulting linger as the
words muster the effort that lacks a meaning, the nonsense becomes
indecipherable as the emotions stream into the skull with a momentum all
their own, and the villain either becomes vanquished or has more power
for that day… the nervous particles all whittling away a fortunate path
to follow so that some day they too may delight in what things are real
Here…
Thanks, khet.
