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Sensual Anarchy

Your love is so cold and clothed.  Your brutal indifference.  I’m bringing needy back.  It’s become such a curse, it’s a shame, to need someone. Why!?

We want to be needed but we don’t want to need. Vulnerability is a dirty feeling, like insecurity and failure. No one will admit to disappointment. No one wants their imperfections shown. What a waste!

Who will step forward and say, “I need something. I need you. I am confused and helpless at times and you heal me. It’s you! It’s you that I need!”

Everyone and their no fucks given. There’s no appeal in that for me.  I have lots of fucks to give. I’ll give them all! I care too much, too quickly, too fervently. Can you imagine there is such a thing as loving too much? Loving too much! I love too much! It’s a curse!

I don’t want your rehearsed sex, with your props and your disengaged urgency.  I don’t need batteries and gadgets. Don’t swing me from ceilings.  Use your hands, use your lips, use your imagination.  Breath on me.

You and your twisted porn. Your glowing screen.  Your vibrators and videos. Buy now!  Make me cum! Do it fast! No kissing! No undressing! No needing! Self-sufficient! No strings! No Feelings! No Regrets! No fucks given!

You and your artificial risk of handcuffs and chains. Your fake danger in whips and wax. Your safe words and costumes. I’ve got no need to play pretend.

You know what’s risky?  Loving completely. You know what’s dangerous?  Needing someone without guarantees.

You’re a coward with your practiced indifference. You’re an actor playing house, like an amusement park character assigned duties of sex and dinners. Scripted conversation. But you never stay to clean up the trash, open the rides, repair and replace the squeaky gears. You don’t know how hard it is to carry the weight. You don’t know how beautiful it is when the park is empty with the sun rising

You’re a mannequin, a robot. You’ve abandoned your heart. Traded it in for security and assurance, sold it for a guarantee. You’ve got your rules and requirements. You have checklists and criteria.

I don’t want that! I don’t need your vacant stares; your clever texts, your discipline.

I need your reckless abandon, your over-sharing, your lust and your wanting.

Give me lawless love. Give me sensual anarchy. I’m giving in, I’m giving up, I’m giving everything.  Just your skin and mine.  Undressed, touching with every inch, sweating,  breathing, eyes locking, stinking like passion and wanting.  I won’t settle for less.

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