“Ah wretched me! I now begin too late
To find out all the long-perplex’d deceit;
It is my self I love, my self I see;
The gay delusion is a part of me.
I kindle up the fires by which I burn,
And my own beauties from the well return.
Whom should I court? how utter my complaint?
Enjoyment but produces my restraint,
And too much plenty makes me die for want.
How gladly would I from my self remove!
And at a distance set the thing I love.”

My hands

What makes you feel sexy?
What makes me feel sexy?
What makes me feel sexy is
My hands, my fingers, a leather jacket
Wearing a dress
What makes me feel sexy is imagining...
imagining kissing myself

“It is my self I love, my self I see;
The gay delusion is a part of me.”
The god damn gay delusion
Only the fags would understand

What makes me feel sexy is
Being alive, bitch
Being up in the air
Air of the air, heir of the air
Once you start going it just happens, right?
Going and going around and around
Orbits are a lullaby, a glowing rock to sleep
A morning mourning and evening call to
Fluttery eyes, bearable for once
The anonymous gaze of desire
I know it’s not gone
But is that what I want in my bedroom?

We are going to look at each other’s body
We have room to spread out and take inventory
Hi feet, you have cute feet, hi ankles
We will kiss
We know nothing, we know everything
If we could grasp love without fear we would be an absolute being
What is there to know?

Life is remembering yourself
You are your own body
Your story is there already
When the time comes

You can’t grab onto it, the sensation of time
Behind, behind, behind, behind
We think we can manage time??

Something about falling in love with yourself
Something about romance
Are you in love with yourself?
I’m trying every day
I mean you’re going to die right next to your self
Side by side with yourself
Something about something about romance
It is not definite nor placeable
It is the bursting
The ejaculation
Queerness is permission
Close to the absolute