There are points in my life where I can make sex transcendent. Any sex. With anyone. I watched a man walking across the street just now, directly in front of my stopped car. He was a bald black man with wide shoulders and a beer belly. He was handsome, and tired, and... And there are these two sharp realities. In one, we are both desperate. Sex is tawdry, sweating in a trailer that smells of cigarettes and microwaved food. There are the underlying emotional realities that everyone refuses to acknowledge. Fear, of being alone Nd left behind. Fear of being ignored by life and people. There is anger, and self disgust, and need.
And then there is this other reality. The one where everything is acknowledged. Fear is out in the open, even if it's still hoping to be ignored. Anger is incorporated, becomes sensual. Self disgust is gone, soothed away by touch and kisses. Sex is sacred, in its own earthy way, it has a purpose beyond simple gratification.
It's just as valid a reality. these two realities are created by the exact same circumstances. The only difference lies within me, with my ability to transcend guttural ugliness.
And then there is this other reality. The one where everything is acknowledged. Fear is out in the open, even if it's still hoping to be ignored. Anger is incorporated, becomes sensual. Self disgust is gone, soothed away by touch and kisses. Sex is sacred, in its own earthy way, it has a purpose beyond simple gratification.
It's just as valid a reality. these two realities are created by the exact same circumstances. The only difference lies within me, with my ability to transcend guttural ugliness.
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