Tag Archives: Madness

The Madness of Want


Maybe I’m egocentric?  Or perhaps I’m unavailable to other people’s feelings when they’re based on significant others and compromises of exclusivity and the possession of my faithful sexuality to a single person?

I believe I’m made by nature to rebel against the norm, of the eager commodity of humans who remain in the center of what the world has ever known:  Familiarity.

I believe it’s exceptionally selfish to ask a person to be monogamous period.  To be able to make a conscious choice out of your philosophy, out of your environment is asking for rousing chaos.  It appears monogamy has much to do with sexuality and not of the love that unites two people.  What does love have to do with sex?  Or sex has to do with love?

I would like to know if anyone can offer me a good answer as to why a person shouldn’t be allowed to share themselves freely with another person in more ways than just an emotional or spiritual response.  Why wouldn’t I connect with someone unreservedly on sexual conditions just because my partner wouldn’t grant me permission?  My body is my will and so is my mind when I make a decision.

I’ve come to recognize there are lots of reasons as to why I don’t feel a closed relationship would work for me (until further notice).  I knew from the start I wasn’t some downright scandalous cheater but a person who felt caged and was practically dying to be unleashed into absolute liberty.

I’d wonder why I could be with a partner and decide at a whim of madness the desires I knew that weren’t going to be met by they.  Maybe what seemed to be hopeless was an expectation of a matter?  Something deeper I presently fail time and time again to put my finger on.

Perhaps I sit premeditating a cycle that becomes unbearable if I yearn for the obviousness of me wielding the power of a man’s shaft in my hands with a mind and mouth of a dangerous whore searching for the collection of sperm through wishes of instant gratification which takes place from her tangible performance.

Or perhaps I’m with a friend or two lounging with an array of smoke and alcohol and the heat of lust takes over me when I’m aware my partner and I rarely throw ourselves into the throes of passion where tongues collide first in a ritual of softness and saliva sparks the breath of required aspiration. Of a person savoring my body with their glorious hands and taking into account that tomorrow is never promised.

There isn’t a hiding place for greed, eventually it will catch up to you.  There isn’t a safe place for expectation to rest its head.  There isn’t a means to destroy the need for instantaneous connection.  Is there a point to living life without the utter abundance of life itself when there isn’t any time like the present?


A Dangerous Method

last night
auto suggest:
leave these four rigid walls
stop the madness
that dwells on the edge
of sanity

disregard gray clouds
and slicing rain
surf Fandango
in search for a film
that screams fuck mainstream
where acting a skill
directing a fine art
to draw upon the elderly
to seduce a lady in her youthful hoodie
who believes she’s forty plus
but who’s only thirty

Lincoln Plaza
a new place
down to escalator
to marvel at the boring appeal
happiness excites
overcomes growls of Fasting hours
and with every heave
a pleasure of self-abuse demand of
delayed onset muscle soreness
commands everything about present time

unbundled the nerves
undress the warmth indoors
scout the audience, small screen
standard auditorium
sit amongst strangers
who share a common interest in
Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung

a shoe brushed and nudged my arm
I took it sexual as the innuendo
of the film have gave way
to a yearning of the subconscious
from two parts, kindred spirits
connected by a quick beginner glare
and a sudden betrayal of my back
how in front I sat

like a dream
to be on a set with David Cronenberg
to take on characters
who speak with doctor sophistication
relish in the swell intoxication
of gigantic vocabulary
and insanity
and destruction
are one with creative forces

I start thinking
how stimulating one can be
in the Now of existence
even with moments shared alone
brimming thoughts
easily slip away
when there isn’t time to create
hand to pen and paper
to know of a thing

to be consumed by the things you Hate
is a promise to being It tomorrow.