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|One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star. -Nietzsche|
April 4, 2012
The Eyes Have It
One must create their own conditions of excellence, formed like a sculpted athlete carrying nothing unnecessary on his frame. We brew magic, not with illusions of appearance, but undeniable substance that strikes viscerally, creeps into dreams, and makes earthly union too tempting to deny.
Weapons and danger everywhere. Lightning and fire illuminate the night skies. Sunrise tempts with fresh open promise and growing warmth.
She glimpses the sight before her, sensing its essence, yet testing it frequently to be certain, and remains still as he approaches, finally melting as he greets her with a firm embrace and passionate kiss. Could this all be real? It seems to be, and how he eclipses her boyfriend!
Her senses overwhelmed and already moist, she feigns calm despite awareness that she is being swept away.
She wants most of all to lose control and be taken to glorious new heights by these torrid storms that toss her about like a rag doll. Her eyes grow big and betray her predicament, and despite uttering words, nothing she expresses is as true or deep as what the rest of her says.
She trembles in awe after climax, stricken to her core by the mystical force overpowering every notion of control and restraint, having been vigorously pleasured into a quivering mess, something so simple fulfilling her beyond everything she ever wanted.
Stunned silent, she can only touch and stare at the physical manifestation who submerges her into this blissful maelstrom. All her armaments of thoughts, facts, judgments, feelings, and schemes vanish and leave her empty handed when she can only whimper joyfully in wonderment.
Language is a costumed procession hiding the reality of human relations, a facade needing to be disrupted by trust, desire, provocations, and risk to lay truth bare.
Next: Thinking is Cheap
     
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