I Love my Homosexuality
Love is not mere pleasure; love hurts.
Pleasure does not necessarily mean love as pleasure does not call for any emotional entanglement.
Pleasure fades away; love persists.
Pleasure and love, when they blend, give us the illusion of dwelling in paradise.
The paradise of pleasure and love hides hell and all its fires.
Pleasure and love are worth to taste despite the bitterness they engender. None can resist them and only cowards, insensate creatures flee this heavenly, dreadful cocktail.
So trust love and try pleasure.
Trust love, believe in it but do not die for pleasure.
Pleasure dies, fades away, vanishes; love survives eternally.
-(Thoughts a discussion with a friend stirred; I will not tell of the name of this friend; I hope the ingenuity of the person will help him/her guess)-
-Faithinlove-
A tight dress, a tight red dress covering the body of a demy-goddess stole my mind in a place that I do not remember anymore; a place I went to at night, a place that has no address, somewhere I cannot remember. She was going down the stairs gloriously lifting her hand to stroke her hair gently; her eyes, two bright stars sparkling from faraway were gazing at me, fixing me, going down and up, descending and mounting as she was going down the stairs.
My Homosexuality…
It is so strange how intricacy seeks simplicity, how simplicity fears intricacy and how intricacy swallows simplicity. A complex, multifaceted and intricate thing can never be simplified, reduced or classified. There are always questions and quagmires and I have always known that her descent from above, from the stairs and that our meeting that night would change everything in me from my perception of the world to my perception of myself.
My Homosexuality…
That night, the simple was learning how to turn into complex, into different, into rare, mythic, queer, uncommon and special. That night the simple began its process of transformation, its rebirth, its alteration, its greatest achievement, its real creation, its resurrection…
My Homosexuality…
She drew near the disconcerted and anxious me, the troubled girl shivering with admiration but also fear. Her hands touched mine as she was drawing near; her body was lying against mine; lips were almost touching as we were kissing each other with mere breath.
My Homosexuality…
As our first and final encounter was taking place, I felt something magic, something strange and beyond any comprehension. Her presence was pulling the ground from underneath my feet and erasing the world in its immensity. I remember but her eyes and her breath; I remember my thirst, my mouth waterless and devoid of saliva, my suffocation and the collapse of my senses. I was blind, deaf, dumb and numb to the whole lot and I was drowning in her gaze.
My Homosexuality…
I do not know how many minutes or centuries we spent there, standing like that. Time is relative; everything is relative; pleasure is relative and love is relative. Hypnotised I was, when she asked me if I believe in love, passion, phantoms, visions, desires, dreams, and me. I was unable to answer her, to utter a sound in her presence and before her irresistible beam.
My Homosexuality…
Fixing me with her gaze, she took my hand in hers and asked me to write about her as a woman, as love, as passion, a phantom, a vision, a fire, a desire, a dream, a culture, and a part of me; then, she moved away and pointed with her finger at my chest. I looked; I saw nothing; I raised my eyes to look at her again but she was no more; she vanished like a phantom, like a vision…
My Homosexuality…
To my horror and my bliss, she stole the dearest thing a mortal has as she pointed at my chest, not the heart, but my feelings and desires. She took all that to her world, a world I have always been attempting to comprehend like everybody, a world I have always failed to comprehend though the dearest parts of me are living in…
My Homosexuality…
I love her; I admire her; I miss her; I write about her; I live through her, I see the world with her eyes; I beseech her; I drink her in my coffee; I breathe her in the air; she is in me and I am in her…
My Homosexuality…
(The lady in the tight red dress, the lady I have been in love with is my homosexuality; I know it is a strange way to perceive lesbianism; but, my lesbianism is strangeness, queerness, complexity and beauty to my eyes. For me, it is thanks to this lesbianism that I have managed to survive the commonality and the ills. I hope for better days for me and for my community as I beseech freedom and write truth.)
-Faithinlove-
Love is not mere pleasure; love hurts.
Pleasure does not necessarily mean love as pleasure does not call for any emotional entanglement.
Pleasure fades away; love persists.
Pleasure and love, when they blend, give us the illusion of dwelling in paradise.
The paradise of pleasure and love hides hell and all its fires.
Pleasure and love are worth to taste despite the bitterness they engender. None can resist them and only cowards, insensate creatures flee this heavenly, dreadful cocktail.
So trust love and try pleasure.
Trust love, believe in it but do not die for pleasure.
Pleasure dies, fades away, vanishes; love survives eternally.
-(Thoughts a discussion with a friend stirred; I will not tell of the name of this friend; I hope the ingenuity of the person will help him/her guess)-
-Faithinlove-
A tight dress, a tight red dress covering the body of a demy-goddess stole my mind in a place that I do not remember anymore; a place I went to at night, a place that has no address, somewhere I cannot remember. She was going down the stairs gloriously lifting her hand to stroke her hair gently; her eyes, two bright stars sparkling from faraway were gazing at me, fixing me, going down and up, descending and mounting as she was going down the stairs.
My Homosexuality…
It is so strange how intricacy seeks simplicity, how simplicity fears intricacy and how intricacy swallows simplicity. A complex, multifaceted and intricate thing can never be simplified, reduced or classified. There are always questions and quagmires and I have always known that her descent from above, from the stairs and that our meeting that night would change everything in me from my perception of the world to my perception of myself.
My Homosexuality…
That night, the simple was learning how to turn into complex, into different, into rare, mythic, queer, uncommon and special. That night the simple began its process of transformation, its rebirth, its alteration, its greatest achievement, its real creation, its resurrection…
My Homosexuality…
She drew near the disconcerted and anxious me, the troubled girl shivering with admiration but also fear. Her hands touched mine as she was drawing near; her body was lying against mine; lips were almost touching as we were kissing each other with mere breath.
My Homosexuality…
As our first and final encounter was taking place, I felt something magic, something strange and beyond any comprehension. Her presence was pulling the ground from underneath my feet and erasing the world in its immensity. I remember but her eyes and her breath; I remember my thirst, my mouth waterless and devoid of saliva, my suffocation and the collapse of my senses. I was blind, deaf, dumb and numb to the whole lot and I was drowning in her gaze.
My Homosexuality…
I do not know how many minutes or centuries we spent there, standing like that. Time is relative; everything is relative; pleasure is relative and love is relative. Hypnotised I was, when she asked me if I believe in love, passion, phantoms, visions, desires, dreams, and me. I was unable to answer her, to utter a sound in her presence and before her irresistible beam.
My Homosexuality…
Fixing me with her gaze, she took my hand in hers and asked me to write about her as a woman, as love, as passion, a phantom, a vision, a fire, a desire, a dream, a culture, and a part of me; then, she moved away and pointed with her finger at my chest. I looked; I saw nothing; I raised my eyes to look at her again but she was no more; she vanished like a phantom, like a vision…
My Homosexuality…
To my horror and my bliss, she stole the dearest thing a mortal has as she pointed at my chest, not the heart, but my feelings and desires. She took all that to her world, a world I have always been attempting to comprehend like everybody, a world I have always failed to comprehend though the dearest parts of me are living in…
My Homosexuality…
I love her; I admire her; I miss her; I write about her; I live through her, I see the world with her eyes; I beseech her; I drink her in my coffee; I breathe her in the air; she is in me and I am in her…
My Homosexuality…
(The lady in the tight red dress, the lady I have been in love with is my homosexuality; I know it is a strange way to perceive lesbianism; but, my lesbianism is strangeness, queerness, complexity and beauty to my eyes. For me, it is thanks to this lesbianism that I have managed to survive the commonality and the ills. I hope for better days for me and for my community as I beseech freedom and write truth.)
-Faithinlove-
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