I have spent a great deal of my timid existence searching, yearning in reserved pursuit of a something. Let us name this fluid creature desire. She called out my name in many crippled specimens of prey as I was on the hunt, both explicitly and implicitly, desire was fed...Yet never to her belly's content, never a fulfilling sensation of completion and so she manifested herself. It began with an outright seizure after every intense encounter of heartbreak endured as profound empathy deluded desire from sheer absolution. Myself, just a vessel, feeling my cock shriveling at the wake of rapidly concurrent shallow encounters, encounters dividing me, desire, my conscience and overall empathetic tethers of human connection that I had ever really had outside of the ones that diverged from spontaneity and unhindered lustful joy. I toyed with a few concepts in my time, although I do not wish to be cryptic, this platform has not been kind to any form of expression I'd wished to naturally breed pure connections birthed from my true will, I sought out on a journey, I fear I began to erase the delusion of "living" which was truly as a corrosive sample of every experience my will was directing me towards and my conscience and false indoctrinations limited to what I can describe as travelling to the beach, putting one foot in the sand whilst looking backwards with reservations of the life one left inland, all the while holding their breath and thinking about the experience at hand...Instead of absorbing it, taking ownership of the will to have sought it out, kind of like being at the cusp of orgasm, not knowing how you got there, unwilling to allow it's completion whilst claiming the will and control of the process to which you are overseeing not experiencing. I'm drunk, I'd meant to be more concise and poetic in my describing the lack of fulfillment in my desire towards living, a perpetual fear of the consequences of my true will which I once viewed as destructive but such is the aftermath of a love that's denied and combusted...Love like true will, knows no beginning nor end and it will gnaw at it's intended target with the progression of time, worse yet the captor beholding it, true will seeks no permission, we are what we are and we love what we love...Even if we resent ourselves for it...I open myself to the will of my heart's desire, through my mind and flesh, until I have reached enlightenment or fulfilment, or orgasm, perhaps even shame, but I shall see it through, and I most humbly invite you to realize your true soul too...Just don't murder me, that won't be cool.

The End

Fuck you.