His skin is the surface of the moon. It remembers adolescence in its altered geography. In this soft light of the only lamp in his bedroom, traces remain. Meteors whose devastation had done their best to shame him in his tender youth now rendered him shy in middle age. This damage made him a precarious lover, uncertain in sexual encounters. More than the pock marks themselves, he didn't like this effect. He had become one of those people who only undresses in semi-darkness, who fucks with their eyes closed, and who hurriedly departs the scene before his partner--now sated--can begin to perceive his many flaws through a lens of their regret.
"This journal is not a mere literary diversion. The further I progress, reducing to order what my past life suggests, and the more I persist in the rigor of composition--of the chapters, of the sentences, of the book itself--the more do I feel myself hardening in my will to utilize, for virtuous ends, my former hardships. I feel their power." --Jean Genet
Showing posts with label sexual confidence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sexual confidence. Show all posts
02 August 2010
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