snow and flicker
nebulous flowers made of fairy wings
they make me think of love
they are the key to love thinking

dim, uncertain, in flux, in development

I am writing songs about my life now, and singing songs about my life a year ago
-- Billie Eilish

Lies, there will always be an audience for lies, the flesh attracted to whatever is a lie, avoiding the truth, the latent flesh, avoiding the judgement, avoid the judgement, be free to do whatever I will.

I will? What makes me will? Where do my desires come from?
Desire: ‘de’ – from, ‘sire’ - the father

A little boy, just kicking a can, being lead to wherever the can goes; aimlessly, hopelessly, listlessly.

‘List’ is a synonym for ‘desire’.

Hectic scenes of things slathered in semen, sex, over the top, perverted, pointless, beyond the pleasure of the orgasm, just the avoidance of judgement. Feeling better with testosterone. The visual manifestation of the sex drive; adolescent, primitive, stupid, playful.

Swimming in water,
at a waterfall,
waterfall,
falling water,
a waterfall breeze.

CMYK colours, dots
endless people swimming in water
drowning in a flood

Stalling, not thinking anything new, thinking the same things over, in repetition, repetition, a circle of thoughts, a pool in which I swim around. New water enters, and the old waters are forgotten. What have I forgotten? Playing in the pool, playing in the pool.

I don’t want to think of sex, these flowers need to be something else.
I don’t want to think of sex, what is driving me? Where does my will come from? Is it ok with you for me to have these sex-stuff thoughts? Where does it begin to seem like something good? That you would approve of?
I don’t want to think about sex, when I am trying to think about you.
Can these flowers mean something else?

Or is there something that needs fixing? I should be able to speak about sex without feeling this avalanche of shame, and going red in the face.

the eitch the witch cast a spell on me
can it be deprogrammed dispelled deprogrammed ho?
how? repeat repetition is involved here, somewhere the repetition of what? what do I need to repeat?
how could she do this to me? it would seem so weird, disgusting, awkward to be around, to be constantly distracted, ignoring the elephant in the room.

I feel trapped here

I want out, I am not feeling well, I am not going to go anywhere now, best to focus on someone else’s train of thought. Is it simple? that loving feeling? sex and love? love and sex appropriation,
pull push ho? How ho? Show me love ho.
despicable whore shameful whore abomination

within that whore, there is a being
At the very most profound reaches of her, there is the part of me that is in her, and that is the part I need you to love for me.

I think I have been distracted from love-swimming
drowning in the baseness of something, the absence of love
I find the part of you that is in them/me
and I see them/me

I do not know what savage blossom only under the pitting hail
Of your inclement season could have prospered?
-Edna St. Vincent Millay

Dig, dig; and if I come to ledges, blast.
-Edna St. Vincent Millay