I’ll show you mines, if you show me yours.
next time make your bed with me in it… #MicroPoem
I’m not hopeless. But I can stop thinking about this drill & this penny in my hand. #MicroPoem
“I want a woman who will arouse my intellect, as well as my loins.” – Akeem, Prince of Zamunda |
So… its been a few weeks since I’ve smanged. And I have to be honest… I’ve been going thru it. Wondering why someone doesn’t want to love me… thinking that I’ve done something wrong… blah, blah, blah. But I know it’s not any of that. And this aint what that post is about. What I’ve learned about myself is that when I’m having stimulating conversation my desire for sex decreases. Does it go away? Hell no. But after years of trying it my way I’m fresh out of ideas. So I guess I’m going to seek out conversation? That sounds weird as fuck. One-night stands of conversation. Nothing about this idea seems right. I know I want love… and I know I want sex… and I know I NEED romance with a huge dose of intellect. And what’s worse, I feel like I need it from a black man. I’m asking for too much. And I don’t care. People want what they want… and get it. So me being a black woman should not be an excuse to lower who I am and what I crave just because systematic racism and white privilege has legalized genocide against my desires. That’s all I really got for now… I don’t know what journey I’m pressing towards… or how long it will last. But I will say this. Celibacy sucks… Whether intentional or unintentional. And I’m certain my desire to hump everything but the toaster is some heinous form of sexual detox I’m going through for the moment.
Now that I think about it… the toaster don’t look too bad.
There’s a squiggly green line under my life
Screaming “fragment consider revising”