i'm terribly romantic.

my dreams reek with the stench of a rapturous frenzy: spectacular new

ways that i might come to, with, and all over life.

 

perverse denial does nothing to separate me from the longing for

other forms and forces to assault my every sense...i've always considered it

wrong to reject an insatiably desiring, reciprocally-actualising,

viscerally maniacal existence.

 

alone, i live in a world where only duplication exists in time

and nothing but bodies burning with bawdy love belong to space.

 

endless absurdity and ever-chattering flesh.

divinely filthy.

a beautiful shambles.