If I see a bovine skull I think Pagan, I see fire and bones in the wilds and the gases from the bog. If I see the kneeling I think Ritual, I think of rites and repetitious worship. If I see the bared woman I think Goddess, primal expression of female and corollary to male.
If I had no words, a silent brain, what would I make of this? What must the wordless mind think of such an image? This is a consideration beyond silence. It’s meditation on preconceived images and the nature of natural versus societal.
If I see a bovine skull I think Pagan, I see fire and bones in the wilds and the gases from the bog. If I see the kneeling I think Ritual, I think of rites and repetitious worship. If I see the bared woman I think Goddess, primal expression of female and corollary to male.
If I had no words, a silent brain, what would I make of this? What must the wordless mind think of such an image? This is a consideration beyond silence. It’s meditation on preconceived images and the nature of natural versus societal.
I speak of “the animal” often, most often in regards to sex. “The animal” needs to fuck, needs to be satiated that way. This is not unique in any regard. But this animal needs much more. This animal requires a connection. This animal has been alone for a long time now, and has developed certain senses. A sense of honesty… a sense of the point… a sense of the state of things right now. The sense of the past is informative and the sense of the future is hopeful. This animal needs to protect, provide, and is confident in the ability to do so. This animal is archaic, is lonely by nature, is not searching. This animal finds what it wants when it isn’t looking.
I speak of “the animal” often, most often in regards to sex. “The animal” needs to fuck, needs to be satiated that way. This is not unique in any regard. But this animal needs much more. This animal requires a connection. This animal has been alone for a long time now, and has developed certain senses. A sense of honesty… a sense of the point… a sense of the state of things right now. The sense of the past is informative and the sense of the future is hopeful. This animal needs to protect, provide, and is confident in the ability to do so. This animal is archaic, is lonely by nature, is not searching. This animal finds what it wants when it isn’t looking.
Testosterone seeping, volatile, from the provider of seed. Capable of higher thinking but regulated by present urgencies. He builds a nest and gathers a store, thinking ahead to the terrible winter. In action he demonstrates for those who pay attention but works on and builds what must be built. There is no subjugation, nor tiring effort to bend the will of others. He simply prepares for inevitability: the mate, the seasons, and the safety of a den. In action he is more than a machine, more than sounds. Success is a calculated effort by the able body and mind. It is in his nature to succeed until death.
He ventures out into the sun in search of a single scent. The calls of others echo in the wind. They will learn for themselves, or perish.
Testosterone seeping, volatile, from the provider of seed. Capable of higher thinking but regulated by present urgencies. He builds a nest and gathers a store, thinking ahead to the terrible winter. In action he demonstrates for those who pay attention but works on and builds what must be built. There is no subjugation, nor tiring effort to bend the will of others. He simply prepares for inevitability: the mate, the seasons, and the safety of a den. In action he is more than a machine, more than sounds. Success is a calculated effort by the able body and mind. It is in his nature to succeed until death.
He ventures out into the sun in search of a single scent. The calls of others echo in the wind. They will learn for themselves, or perish.
My fantasies are this: natural. Natural possession of your desire, of your neck, of your thighs, of sweaty oily skin and wet moist lips. My hands are yours and I give them to waiting lips, your man, my woman. This is how I see our passage of time—not idealized happiness, but natural embrace.
My fantasies are this: natural. Natural possession of your desire, of your neck, of your thighs, of sweaty oily skin and wet moist lips. My hands are yours and I give them to waiting lips, your man, my woman. This is how I see our passage of time—not idealized happiness, but natural embrace.
