Each time I had a lover, I was a different man. One of them would wake passion for me, the second one would wake romance, the third one would wake admiration and so on. I loved passionately many times. I loved her and her, and my career and my family, my friends, my town… I loved many times and many things. But every time my love was pointed at something, I felt her very intensively, desirous, to the edges of erotic. My senses have been pulsating every single time I loved something deeply. So, I love to see those multiple versions of me. Of the REAL me, who is tortured by emotions but yet who is feeling alive at the same time. Every time I experience strong emotions I had a feeling of living life at its fullest.
Sometimes when I love, my love was watchful, sometimes was energetic and sometimes I had to love necessarily. Often, my feelings were on the edge with average normal. My illusions weren’t always so straight and forward, they were kind of a psychedelic.
I had that inner rooster inside me who carefully differentiate between birds of different species. No, no, my rooster didn’t love everything that has feathers, he likes more sophisticated species. The principle is always the same, everything in between is just nuances. Everything in between is just my repressed Libido seeking an energetic way to express itself fully. Very often I fight with myself, drowned during the terrible condemnation of libido. In those moments I just need to stop and stare at nothing for a while. The only thing that helps is a conversation with inner me. With my rooster. Some serious talks. Oh, my God, this rooster is quite arbitrary and does not listen to me anything. But the Super Ego is persistent in trying to get their own. Very often, regardless of the full force of libido, he loses. He is strong and infamously lost. I don’t have enough courage to put my wings on.
I need to be running free and to catch the air to the fullest. To run and fly. To run away forever. But then I would be lost. I need my fence on which I can rely on. I need that feeling of safety even do I would be more myself if I let this lucid feeling away. I’m stuck on the black canvas called “morality and its limitations.” From here I see no way out. I try to reason the remaining part of me that still has a touch with reality and is not drowned in emotions. Defectively. Pointless. I hear loud crowing libido. It seems that once again my reason is losing the battle.
~ Zorica ~