| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
|---|
Three days have passed since we last spoke, as you can imagine, interesting times have transpired. I have been daunted upon by scantily clad women with soft hands, accompanied politicians for alcohol binging, talked the talk with artistes!!, fancied visions of carnal perversions, ate venison of the gods and talked about being king for a day. Who could ask for more? Apparently I can, my insatiable appetite for the menu unknown begs my eternal question again and again. My angst and aggression stemming from the ego in my pants seems never to let up. But its more than that. Its a desire to live a little faster, to wake up and say WHOA! what happened and before the riddle can be solved I'm flying down the triple diamond snow-slopped runway again. No time for looking back just keep your hat on. I want to be walloped with seduction, to be eternally craved. I am too often tempted, as it seems my marital status is a favorable attribute and a damning one at the same time. Tantalized and taunted, nymphs confessing supreme attraction to the partner even I don't have. Its one thing to be married, its another to get it right. I just can't seem to get it right and I feel as if my life is moving fast, yet I don't have the joys of a slobbering head out the window of a speedster racing in the Vermont hill ways. There is a sense of urgency, a sense of passion, a sense of must and I feel as if I am missing out. Don't bother telling met to leave the one I love the dearest and seek the life she cant seemingly offer, its not only utterly preposterous, but entirely impossible. We spent the afternoon at the studio, I crafting images for a lifetime, her with time-passing pleasures such as beauty enhancement and catching up with old time friends and lovers. I enjoyed her being there. It was a simple pleasure, such as having your mom wait for you in the lobby during a teeth cleaning. We agreed to a dinner of spice and tart, tequila enhancing liquor love......"ahhhhhhh" this was the stupor I was looking for, fat-belly-full, one more drink, and let me settle between your legs. Spice tends to stir me, and the tequila haze lends itself to pleasures of ass and immorality. What happened to the Roman times of gross excess? In such a time it was acceptable to eat like a tick and fancy the delights of mistress and lover. Now it seems I am a tick filled with another such ill. Daily caressing of my ego never seems to subside and nurture the nature I need so badly to fulfill. I wanted a slut with a brain and got a virtuous genius. |
|