It was a good day. It's even a better day when reality is pushed down in favor of surrealism or esoterism. Hell, I might even dance with some of the other isms-nihilism, existentialism, sado masochism, agnosticism, Buddhism. You name it. On the surface I am open and articulate, upbeat and motivated. But the other part of me does not possess a sense of clarity or decisiveness but rather a strangling tightness. The hypocrisy we live with in so many ways is deafening. The ism that is forgotten is eroticism. Fabricated from fragments of lust, it calls me like so many others to question that which falsely surrounds our being. It is the essence of humanity, urging us to be present within ourselves. Dizzy with immediacy it calls us and our trapped spirits to soar. I smile embracing for the first time ever, or at least in a very long time, a lyricism of the highest intensity, climaxing and embracing the possibility of impossibility. The radiance of life consumes me. In her fervor I celebrate today. I no longer gasp for air in the confinement of that garage in Arizona. That would be garage of that would be life among the scorpions and the saguaro cacti. I'm breathing peacefully now. Let's wait until tomorrow to be suffocated again.
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