I have foreseen in him..the risk of being untamed. And let me tell you how fine that risk is, how pleasant and exhilarating, sometimes even sexually arousing it is...how it stirs those emotions that you have locked in a drawer somewhere, when as a child, they educated you about human and imoral.

Love...love is not a word I throw between sheets or beyond the speed limits, love is for the sacred. Love is that body that turns into smoke and no matter how insubstantial that body becomes and no matter how impossible it is to grip it, the feeling continues to rise until it becomes you, like death, only better. And then, you start to smoke every cigarette, to just have a glimpse of that feeling you've had or dreamed to have, but all of them become cancerous, leaving that bad taste in your mouth, for this smoke you are looking for cannot stem from a package...it's one of a kind.

And it wanders through music, just like a song you knew as a child, but cannot remember its name, you only recall a few notes, like a distant memory from a past life, but you cannot tell whether it was this song...or that song...or a creation of your own mind. But you, entirely tamed by the curses that they threw over your dreams, you still keep them locked, without air or light, hoping they'd die. What you forget is that they don't need neither air nor light, for as you thought that they'd lay there silent, they slowly crawled inside you, begging you to remember and they saw the same light that you saw.

After a while, it's not love that you seek anymore, but revenge. All these years turn into a deep wound that you feel at each step that you take in the opposite direction. It pulls you back, but we all know that man will always be slightly masochistic. Ceasing our dreams, refusing to live, a torture that most of us take gladly.

Society? Oh, but that's simply a handful of frustrations. Principles, morality, wealth, they all hide the inner wish, that burning desire to be acknowledged and safe. They need prejudgments to hold you down, to put the mask on your face and in some cases (the happy ones), that mask begins to asphyxiate you, and you feel it, but ignore it, the lack of air brings that rush of hallucination that makes you feel good for a while, but only for a while...and if you don't hurry, you'll panic and you won't be able to escape. In the other cases, the mask merges with your face and you become the prejudgment.

Morality...most likely, an excuse for men to have fun and women to endure. Wealth...simply creating a carton (metal or diamond) personality to the ones without a face, the simplest road to acknowledgement. Building your being is hard, buying your being is easy and after you're done, you'll continue by buying other beings.

But those are for the weak kind and if you're weak, you're never safe. Safe is for the strong. The weak need shelter, they depend on it. Take the wealth from a man and throw him in an island, with other people that don't know about it, he will be destroyed. Take the word sex out of his vocabulary and he'll be talking like a 5 year old.

But I want to be untamed so I'm unlocking my drawers.

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