Deadness

I’ve been investing in myself with more solitary, even solipsistic, forms of sex and sexuality. Maybe this is a little bit about my growing older… All I know is that there’s a distinct shift and ebbing.

Fourteen years since climbing out of the wreckage, and I’ve never felt more alive—despite the limp, the pain, the aging. Death is a constant companion, sure, but so is desire, vitality, absurd good fortune, and the bittersweet weight of knowing I’m right at the peak.

I feel alive.

I would make a great porn director, don’t you think?

I’m not immune to COVID.

Aha! Or, duh!

Meditating helps. The addict’s mind in the face of pain and loss….

I was so much older then. I’m younger than that now.

I contend with an omnipresent sense of deadness.

I want you. Forever.