I am writing a book. I cannot promise it will be completed in a year, or even a lifetime. That being said, I am baked, and I am shooting to profit from the universe of my infinite imagination.
Not to mention, I think society could benefit from these tales of vulnerability and desire. I have learned so much from my encounters, and being in the presence of naked women and men. The human nature is as evil as it is ridiculous, and one can act wisely with resilience to withstand the consequences of their own honesty, both with themselves and those around them. Others foolishly bulldoze their way to the destruction of the planet, and all living beings.
I am so fortunate. So very, very blessed to have acquired this insight into the psychological makeup of humans in their most raw and honest form.
A page from a chapter in my life. One which evidentally had an impact on my loins at the time, yet fails my memory in the present.
I’ve been writing my own story since I was 11. Personal growth is a fascinating subject to observe and document. Even when the spaces between remain unseen.
I have become fairly adept in the art of mindfulness, and have learned how to calm the physical and emotional symptoms of my anxieties.
Blank spots in my history continue to remind me of how important it is to remain rooted and steadfast in the present. How crucial it is to be aware of every waking moment, every sensation, every stimulation of the soul, the lips, the tongue, the eyes, the contours and curves of my body.
They are cold, tired and hungry.
There were supposed to be two,
And I wasn’t supposed to be welcoming them,
For I am only a tennant,
In these faulty towers.
But there is happiness to this madness,
Tonight I shall indulge
All the pleasures…
Blatantly, and without inhibition.
Because no one can touch me,
Now that I have done another man’s job.
No one will dare knock on my door
Asking me to cease and desist,
When they cannot succeed at independence
In managing the affairs
of the self-orchestrated hurricane they call a life.
This poem was inspired by the one and only @Un.corps on instagram. His abstract close-ups and full bodied self portraits (both censored and uncensored) display the best of the male anatomy whilst expressing the most earnest and passionate of emotions. Most notable however, is that his face is never revealed in his work.
His manner and mystery evoke the most intense pangs of lust driven by curiosity towards the enigmatic and the unseen. Whether it’s faith in eternity, electricity pulsating through the body or the howling winds of nature, we are all driven and moved by a force which cannot be entirely recognised. For this reason, my words could not be contained.
The citation to Frida Khalo is a nod to the works published in her once secret diary, which have undoubtedly influenced the overall literary flow and style of this piece. I wanted to keep the emotion as raw as possible, which means the lines do not follow a set or predictable structure, and the words – compulsive and uncontrollable – ryhme at random.
On short, these words convey the anticipation and adrenaline that accompanies everything we desperately want, yet cannot see in entirety.
Whimsical Wordsmith 