"Come in, come in", he says kindly

Like a child on his first day of school I entered the room in which the nature of mankind would be revealed.
A sympathetic conversation led to the rubbing of his raging hand against my lower, intimidated back

I was using the ****** power I have as a woman to lead him into the craving of my anatomy
but I was afraid, and I didn't want it..
I wanted him to stop, but I didn't want to stop

Tonic Immobility was my immediate reaction reaction to the abusive touch of a priest who used John 1:9 as his excuse

My body - naturally reacting to its sexuality leaned itself to the predator, with desire but with fear...

Obsessing over *******, I spent my sundays ******* instead of going to church
I found myself continuously watching ******* and drawing vaginas in class
But most importantly - trying to make sense out of my ****** encounter with a priest -  I found myself thinking of the bizarreness of human nature...

Thats what it was...
Human nature...

The priest was condemned due to his commitment to God, to the church.
His human nature refused to be repressed any longer, he refused to continue having testicular pain due to the vasocongestion
he needed
he needed
he needed

I needed
I needed
I needed
because by nature I desire ***
because by nature I am ******
because by nature I am promiscuous

Our religion had deceived us into believing that that Human Nature is a sin
Our religion had turned our ****** desires into feelings of guilt
Our religion repressed our entire nature
When in reality,
theres no such thing as sin, at least not in nature...
–*Frida Virrueta

I walk into a museum with the most emotional and abstract art
This masterpiece wears a "PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH THE ART"

You see... You aren't suppose to touch the art
You aren't suppose to touch a masterpiece

Much too sensitive
Much too unique

Its replacement is non-existent
Its resurrection is non-existent

Once You mess it up, It's eternally messed up

She's all that..

Although I'm the cat killed by curiosity, I ignored my desires
I repressed myself for the first time
I repressed myself for the love of another

I didn't want to ruin such a beautiful work of art, I didn't want to damage the masterpiece

"You do realize you're crying right?", I asked kind of trying to diminish and ridicule her tears and her claim of emotionless
"Yeah", she answered, her pupil dilating
"Then you mustn't be dead", I said, with a little snigger at the end

Why must people relate so much pain to emotionlessness?
Why did she tell me she was emotionless when she was drowning in her tears

Maybe it was because pain had over-powered every other feeling
Maybe it was because so much pain simply made her feel like she was practically going to die, and when you're dead you're not suppose to have emotions anymore, so she jumped to that conclusion.
I mean it must be terrible.. To be dead, and be aware of it, and feel it, and still have emotions
What would be the point of death if awareness is involved?

But all this was ramble

As I'm writing this I become aware that pain is a feeling, not an emotion. "You feel it all over your body"

We turn physical pain into mental pain and that's when it starts turning into an emotion

This is when I start losing my ****...
What makes me think I can file my thoughts?

There wasn't much I could do because like she said, "the damage is already done".
My efforts would be as time-wasting as a little mouse trying to eat a hawk, but I still tried.

This person had snatched her life away, for every stroke brought her closer to her death
Stroke number one weakened her identity
Stroke number two erased her identity
Stroke number three made her feel worthless
And before there was time for another stroke, she was convinced that she was worthless

Voice had no voice, for its mouth was being covered by every time she pleadingly and repeatedly cried "no"

She finally understood what girls she clowned on felt when insisting "no means no"

If I had a chance to choose my way of dying I'd say of a heart attack when making love on a cold October night, but then again.. I'm pretty indifferent to the cause of my death since regardless of the cause I'm going to die, we're going to die..

I'm stuck between the belief that it's better if I resist all temptaion, maybe that way I wont sin (what ever that is)
That it's better if I stay cautios, and not get too close.. Maybe that way I wont feel the burn on my flesh after each time yours glides on mine..
I'm stuck between the belief that it's better if I just anchor myself,before you anchor me

Between believing I should instead just let myself feel, let myself die for the love of love, for after all I am in love with destruction, I'm in love with chaos,I'm in love the way you can effect me, In love with the way you can turn my ideas around, in love with the way you can make illogical things sound so logical..