I’ve never been the type to shy away from sex. Nor have I been afraid to love. In fact I ran head first into the latter, to whom had my affection, it didn’t matter.
I had convinced myself that a free fuck could lead to more. Needless to say my partner was convinced it was the makings of a whore.
Was I in fact a whole or was I more? Or was I simply scorned?
Afraid to love again, so I shed away from all forms of touch and affection. I made sure to never be hurt by meaningless connections.
But in turn, my heart grew cold, my hair gray, my bones old. I knew that my clock was winding down. I would die alone if didn’t seek love now.
Seems to be the norm these days. Emotional commitments are dying. Physical connections are all that folks are trying.
People don’t want the work of compatibility. Oh no, rather it’s easier to seek chemistry.
Is he tall? Is her hair real? Is her ass fat? Is his dick long? What about love? What about the things that make us want to connect?
I envision sitting on a porch drinking lemonade or iced tea on a warm autumn evening. I seek more than lying on my back. You see there’s more to life than just ejaculation?
You see we are stuck trying to heal from the lack of others’ healing. Sexually transmitted traumas being passed around faster than the aids epidemic.
It’s this sexually transmitted negativity that I’m afraid to catch. Passing foul energy is something no condom can deflect.
In fact, there’s no protection on the market from this infection. You can’t buy it or get a prescription.
Doesn’t even matter if you try to be abstinent, celibate. You can catch it even from another’s aura. Because there’s no protection from sexually transmitted trauma.
Drunken Insomniac Writer
Drunken Insomniac Writer 