today i am rummaging the thoughts filed away in my head like a librarian in the dusty corner of the library no one has touched in a while.
keep. toss. toss. keep. toss.
into the recycling bin to free up the space.
one thought that i picked up and examined for awhile is the idea that i know what sexuality and sensuality is/i am/another human is.
if everything that i have ever done is dead as dust and gone forever and everything in the future is just and always will be a question, what am i left with?
the obvious is here and now.
here and now i'm just sitting and moving my fingers.
how does that tell me what i am? what i will be?
why would a pattern of who i have been attracted to and been physical with in the past have anything to do with now? or, what may be now, but not yet?
isn't a label of straight, gay. dominant, submissive, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, kinky, prude, slut, or sissy all be talking about what is gone and never again?
who actually has the time machine to tell me what i am tomorrow?
who isn't standing on the edge of i don't know what the fuck i am going to next?
if we have a conversation about what we think we are, perhaps the most wise way to approach the subject is: nothing other than words to fill the space of emptiness...
the words i am left with is like a knight going to battle with a carrot rather than a sword.
the words, no matter how many i say and how many arrangements of the words i make, will never tell me what i am.
the words are ineffective, although all that i have.
i will never know what i am*
(self portrait )
the words will only prove to be dust. every time.
i am in the library of the mind holding the thought sexuality/sensuality in my hands....
into the toss pile it goes!
love,
lady rainbow*faerie godmother
