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Teasing the touches.

elegantly repulsive and yet the villain in me drives closer to something intangible, the masculine forces inside me are always conflicted with the externalized feminine forces, and the opposite occurs with women’s internal femininity versus the externalized masculinity… some observer screaming, this is what my conscious ego is like, pointing out with a judgmental air every maddening detail… the establishment of self through all the hectic feelings that swivel and swerve… filing the teeth to points graded on the curve, with tenacity, the build-up to the one last nerve… my internal gauge for sexuality breaks down into multiple pieces each time I begin to set my mind a certain way, like the clock springing loose, and my penchant for the absurd only grows stronger and more obvious… the insulting linger as the words muster the effort that lacks a meaning, the nonsense becomes indecipherable as the emotions stream into the skull with a momentum all their own, and the villain either becomes vanquished or has more power for that day… the nervous particles all whittling away a fortunate path to follow so that some day they too may delight in what things are real Here…

Thanks, khet.