Innocence and Lust

Man's Innocence:

He comes loaded with stories of enchantment and filled with doe eyed wonder for the site he beholds. Like the unquenchable thirst of youth for answers, he constantly bug you with whys... not satisfied with yes, and wont take no for an answer. Like sweet tantrum of kids, they roll and shout and beg just to have you, the sweetest treat. Like a child eating ice cream on a pavement he sinks his mouth eagerly and lick you all over. He latch and suck on your breasts like a new born hungers for sustenance, and expects you to cater to his needs day in and out. He prefer you over others to remove their clothes for them, and can only sleep in your loving arms. Like his childish, naive antics that leave you breathless and unsure of what is next and fear for your and his well being. And like the turbulence of adolescence he crave so much reassurance that you must remain constant and convince him that he belong to you and no one else, that no matter how sullen, how fast the changes are you will be there. But in constant fear of him growing up too fast and leaving the nest.


Woman's Lust:

In her want to be swept off her feet she is prepared to accept all the stories of enchantment even if the site is not too nice to behold. in her need for someone to talk to she settles for shallow conversations. In her vanity she gives in to the illogical tantrums, relieved to be chosen as the sweetest treat. In her lust to nurture she eagerly opens herself, feeding each hunger, each need and sadly content to watch his innocent slumber in her hard worn, aching, and still loving arms. In her longing for adventure she satisfy herself with watching naive antics, forgetting her own journey. In her selfishness she becomes grasping and waxy stiff to do everything to hopefully provide heart and hearth to the prodigal child .

In the woman's lust for his innocence, we have created a man not grown.
And in the man's innocence he has created a wrinkled, old crone.

ON LOVE

"Love made me" has always been my answer to those kiddie slum book questions on love, forced on me by my too eager girly girl friends.

I have since then learned to rationalize all aspect of it. From that innocent confidence to this clueless unhinged jade, love has eluded me. I have not felt it, never have i felt it... what is it? is it the jump of a heart from a tender stroke? is it the shatter of a glass from a cruel shrill? or is it just the wet hard throb from a heated exchanged glance? no matter what it is its always been elusive to those who hungers for it and its always there to those sated by it.

how to begin?

Every journey toward self is a challenge as difficult as death. Everything must be cleansed and renewed to be able to enter a haven so safe that death wont matter. i write for myself and i write for others but mostly for the thoughts that must come out wanting to come out. it must be given life and i must let me go to let this out. im too involved that thoughts are jumbled and are beginning to rebel. I must give it wings, must let go and let us come out. be brave and do us favor. let them hear us.. this is how you begin to understand yourself. this is your journey be with us... We are those that give you wings, allow us, acknowledge us and don't let us go. We are those you refuse to acknowledge in you your potential and your strength. We are love hate hunger need power beauty these is all we are. give us life let us grow celebrate us, be with us.